Couples Therapy
by MyShojoHeart
Summary: Human detectives Adrian Ivashkov and Dimitri Belikov are forced into couples therapy in this AU based off of Common Law. Counseled by Dr. Lissa Dragomir, the pair must work together and resolve their differences to solve their cases- just as detectives Sydney Sage and Rose Hathaway, Dimitri's ex, come in for the same teachings.
1. The Set-Up

**Los Angeles, 8:44 PM**

**5 Years Ago**

Contradicting the night sky, beams of Hollywood lights flirted with the stars up above, the entire city a luminous glow. Amidst LA's common-place glitz and glamor, Adrian Ivashkov opted to linger in the shade, the 24-year-old cop playing undercover. He was the only one pretending though. There was a hum of static as he pressed on the button of the walkie-talkie, asking cheerfully despite his shady position, "USSR, do you copy?"

An exasperated sigh echoed on the opposite end. "That's offensive, Adrian."

"Nickname's only, USSR."

Adrian fought to keep a straight face, and failed, when Dimitri bit back sharply through the walkie-talkie's static, "Adrian, this is ridiculous. How is this plan going to track down a lead in the Badica case?"

"Who said anything about a lead?" the green-eyed detective remarked as he peeked up out of his cover, waiting for the fun to unravel from inside his shadow-laced car. Dimitri Belikov, his partnering detective, resided across the street, bathed in light in wake of the restaurant's grand opening. While his black-and-white get-up was an instant hook to 90% of the female spectators, the allure of his tuxedo was easily contradicted by the frustrated look on his face as he pressed a finger to the blue tooth in his ear. "You should really try smiling more," Adrian suggested helpfully, staying out of sight. "Stress causes wrinkles."

"_You _are my stress, Adrian."

"Ouch, playing the heartbreak card a little early tonight, don't you think?"

Dimitri pointedly ignored him, just as he ignored the swoons and stares his suit was earning. "If we're not covering a lead, what am I doing out here?" he asked, a faint Russian accent lacing his words as his dark eyes flickered around.

"You'll see," he chirped happily. As timing would have it, he soon caught sight of a (familiar) desert flower in a breathtaking red dress. _If looks could kill_, he thought to himself. Honestly, he was a little jealous of Dimitri, even if he'd been the one to set them up. If Rose hadn't made their friendship-only status crystal-clear, he would be the one out there charming the Turkish-born CIA agent. But since she _had_ shot down that charm countless times before, and since Adrian was a charitable philanthropist in more ways than one, he'd devised a plan to throw the two together.

Opposites did attract, right?

"Adrian-" Dimitri began to warn again when a tapping on his shoulder stopped him. He turned around, mirroring brown eyes meeting his.

Rose simpered, amused. Even in three-inch-heels the height difference was impressive. "Either you're talking to yourself comrade, or, as I'm guessing by the aggravation, you're on the line with Ivashkov."

Dimitri was unable to reply for a moment, tongue knotting. He was dazed, both by her words and, well _her_. She had an exotic, dangerous beauty radiating off her, able to draw attention regardless of her attire- which happened to be stunning as well. Unfortunately he had no idea who she was. After clearing his throat, he found his voice again. "Forgive me but you are...?"

"Ah, Adrian didn't tell you, huh?" She flashed a saucy grin. "I'm Rose, Rose Hathaway. From what I understand, you've been set-up by your partner, comrade. He said, and I quote, you would 'make it worth getting dolled up tonight'."

There was a quiet pause as Dimitri allowed this to sink in. "I see," he said slowly. "Will you excuse me a minute?" When he got the go-ahead, he ducked away, pressing the device into his ear again. "You set me up on a blind date?" he hissed on the sidelines of the red carpet.

"I know, I know," Adrian said, pausing as he glanced back out at the pair. "I could really drive Cupid out of the matchmaking business."

"Adrian!"

"Can I be the best man at your wedding?"

"That would be a little hard, seeing as your name may or may not be in the obituary of tomorrow's paper," Dimitri replied thickly.

Adrian grinned, resting back in the driver's seat. "Then let's hope for both our sake's this date goes well." He disconnected, watching as Dimitri took out his blue tooth and glared at it, bottling up his irritation as he returned to Rose, apologizing. She simply smiled at the exchange, the two heading in. _I should get paid overtime for this_, Adrian mused from his window seat.

Despite Adrian's constant crack at wedding jokes as they dated, a year after the initial set-up, the two did wind up at the alter. Adrian even scored the best man's seat, target lessons giving him perfect aim when he chucked rice, his drunken speech at the reception one for the record books.

Things after that, however, didn't go as planned. Let's just say CIA and PD personal relations don't always pan out well. And a lot more than just that relationship went downhill from there.


	2. Gelato Stand Secrets and Louis Vuitton

**Los Angeles, Tuesday, 10:02 PM**

**Present Day**

Adrian Ivashkov was not having a good 29th birthday. To be fair, it had started out great, the dark-haired philanthropist rewarding himself with a Camaro early in the morning (a pat on the back for not getting killed by alcohol poisoning yet) and even closing a cold case. All had been going well until he and his partner had gotten a radio call about the suspect in their latest murder. Of course Dimitri insisted on checking out the new-found location, ignoring Adrian's protests over missing his reserved birthday dinner.

_And this is why I never listen to you, Dimitri_. Instead of enjoying lobster, Adrian and Dimitri were pinned and forced to use Adrian's self-given birthday present as cover while his Camaro was getting shot up by the suspect. "Suspect" was a loose term; he looked pretty guilty at this point, in the detective's opinion. And Adrian's liquor canister, strapped to his hip beside his gun, had run dry right when he needed it most.

_Well, at least I sprung for the bullet-proof windows_. Small perks. He peeked cautiously over the trunk before ducking behind the glossy black car, a chorus of gunshots ringing out into the night and hammering his baby. _And the full car insurance policy_, he added to his strung-along thoughts, not looking forward to explaining to his State Farm agent the numerous bullets jammed in the passenger side window.

"We need a plan," Dimitri instructed his partner. Though he spoke better English than most of the American and British population combined, his accent remained intact as he uncomfortably tried to stay low. It didn't help he was way over the 6 foot mark.

"Oh really? I thought it'd be fun just to wait for him to finally hit us."

"You know what I mean," he said, his voice indicating Adrian was running on thin ice. When wasn't he these days though?

He sighed before saying lightly, "Fine, I have a plan." Giving up on crouching, he sat on the curb and lit up a cigarette. The day he let both his cigarette and alcohol stash dry up was the day he threw himself out his apartment window. Exhaust blew between his lips. "Let him run out of shots and while he's reloading, we take the window. Though at this rate I'll have to make a run to CVS since this pack will run out before his bullets do."

His partner, taken aback, exclaimed, "_That's_ your plan?"

"Got any better ideas?"

Dimitri weighed Adrian, testing how serious he was (Adrian laying back and bathing in the moonlight care freely) before he shook his head hopelessly. He really was serious. "Lung cancer will kill you before an escaped convict does."

"That's my plan in the long-run," Adrian quipped back cheerfully. "But in the meantime, I'll help speed up this process." Apparently, the cigarette had rejuvenated his spirit. Or the idea of running out of tobacco edged him forward. Probably both. He stood, still crouched under the car's roof, before starting to play whack-a-mole with the gunman.

Dimitri banged his head lightly on the side mirror. He didn't even want to think about filing out this accident report. Meanwhile, Adrian continued to pop his head up and down, bullets firing at him in an untamed frenzy. He noted the suspect hugged the wall of an alley adjacent to them, hoping the shadows provided cover. Not enough, clearly.

"Get ready," Adrian informed his partner in a low tone. From the corner of his eye, he caught Dimitri lifting his head from the car to melt back into his previous, braced state. Some days it was amazing how quickly he could snap back into his default, warrior setting. Adrian didn't complain. This of all times called for it.

A low click resonated through the night air. The suspect had run out of shots. In one swift, unified front, Dimitri and Adrian stood and fired, one bullet each. The guy's right arm flew back and he grunted, dropping to the ground. They made their way over, Adrian kicking the gun away from him while Dimitri forced him to his back and handcuffed him.

"Pretty nice shooting from the birthday boy," Adrian grinned, leisurely standing while Dimitri did the hard work. He could play distraction, but doing more work than necessary was not in his quota. His hands were not meant for menial labor.

Dimitri spared a glance at him, still wrestling to lock his wrists. "What are you going on about? I shot him."

"I think the adrenaline is messing with your head, Belikov."

"I aimed for his right shoulder, that's where it hit. God knows where your bullet flew off."

Adrian stamped out his cigarette then squatted and rolled the guy over on his back. "Which one of us shot you, me or him?" he asked, jabbing a thumb between them. The guy didn't acknowledge his question, cussing both of them out with a vivid and colorful Spanish vocabulary. Dimitri rolled his eyes and hoisted the guy up. Adrian stood as well, pocketing his hands as he mulled over their contest. A devil-may-care smile laced his lips.

"Yeah, I totally shot him," he assured himself, sauntering after them. "Think we can stop at that CVS now?"

**Dr. Dragomir's Office, LA, Wednesday, 8:52 AM**

The written order burned in Dimitri's pocket, reminding him he was legally bound by his commander to be here. If it hadn't been for that, he wouldn't come within 100 meters of this place.

Just as menial labor was sworn off in Adrian's book, therapy was in Dimitri's. Alberta, however, tended not to give a damn about personal rules, and sitting in the metal, fold-out chair feeling like a war prisoner strapped down with chains, it didn't really matter anymore. He was here, and he was stuck.

Being a war prisoner was starting to look appealing in retrospect.

"You may feel as if you know your partner well- maybe too well," a female voice said. Questionable glances and scuffles resonated around the circle, the door to the room barred by an In Session sign. "But you'd be surprised at what you don't know. "

A hand rose into the air. "Excuse me, Dr. Dragomir." The owner of the voice flashed a smile that could have made Victoria Secret models weak at the knees and convince an FBI's Most Wanted bandit to turn himself in- all at once. "But _that_," Adrian said pleasantly, "is complete and utter bullshit."

Dimitri, sitting beside him, shot him a warning look. He ignored it. Lissa Dragomir simply smiled though, the therapist head a pretty platinum blonde with jade eyes mirroring her sleek dress. "An interesting opinion. Nice to hear from you, Mr. Ivashkov, it's good for the newer pair to branch out in their first session." Adrian took a humble bow from his seat, earning a rolling pair of eyes from his partner. "Everyone this is our new couple, Adrian and Dimitri," Lissa introduced.

Three other couples made up the circle, most of them married and holding hands. Not the detectives. Dimitri had his arms and legs crossed, Adrian hanging lazily off the back of the opposing-faced chair. They couldn't have put more distance between themselves if they tried. "Tell us how long you've been together," Lissa said.

"7 years."

"5 years."

The conflicting answers were said in unison. Adrian rolled his tongue behind his teeth, fighting a witty remark. "We've known each other for 7 years."

"But we've been partnered for 5, which is what she was asking."

"Does it really matter which anniversary we're celebrating? Either way you're not taking me on a cruise. Or even out to dinner." He tsked and murmured to the lady beside him, "Such a cheapskate," shaking his head sadly.

Dimitri's stoicness was beginning to crack as it always did around his partner. Lissa glanced between the pair. She said nothing, but could already tell what had brought them into counseling. "Alright, changing pace," she said. "Adrian, why did you initially say that when speaking up?"

"Simple. Everything I need to know about my partner, I do, and vise-versa."

"Hmm," she mused, her attention shifting back to the whole group. "Let's test that theory, shall we? I would like you all to look at the questionnaire sheet I handed out to you. I had planned to make it homework, but perhaps it would be more beneficial to have our new couple try a question or two." She scanned the numbered inquiries before choosing one, and letting her attention flicker to his partner. "Dimitri. How did Adrian get his name?"

Dimitri looked up from his paper, still skeptical. His formality and respect for others, superior or no, was mainly what drove him to answer as he replied, "Well, seeing as Adrian grew up in foster care, I'd say nobody knows."

"I didn't grow up in Foster care, I was adopted," he corrected his partner, the group nodding sadly and murmuring sympathetic responses. Adrian honestly didn't feel the sympathy was necessary, though. With his born charisma, he'd been adopted in less than a day, and to millionaire stock-owners nonetheless. It was the only way he could replace his Camaro outside on such short notice.

"So how did you get your name, Adrian?" Dimitri asked.

He shrugged, amused by the whole therapy session. It took a lot for him to become serious about anything. "Dr. Dragomir's asking you, not me."

"Exactly, you don't know. Nobody knows."

He looked to him, cocking his head, entertained. "Rose knows," Adrian said just to push his partner's buttons.

Dimitri shot him another warning look, this time faint anger simmering in his dark coals. There was a pause before he replied, "We're not going to talk about Rose."

That sparked interest among the group. "Rose? Who's Rose?" One of the girls, Jill, he faintly recalled, asked. She had piercing green eyes and untamable curls, her partner a lofty redhead. He couldn't remember his name exactly; female names had always stuck in his head more than the opposite gender.

"Dimitri's ex," Adrian informed the group.

Murmurs flitted around the circle. "Yeah, exes are always the problem," a brashly honest, but seemingly-good-hearted woman quipped. She had caramel skin and glossy back hair, her partner dark-eyed and quieter. While Adrian couldn't pin their names, Dimitri remembered them as Stanton and Ian. Donna was her real first name, but since she was almost always at work, preferred to go by Dr. Stanton. Somewhere along the road, it had wound up being shortened to just Stanton. The name trivia could probably go on for days in this group.

Ian nodded, more sympathetic than when he heard the adoption story. "We've all been there. Mine found me on Facebook."

Stanton cut her husband a sideways look. "Who found you on Facebook?"

Lissa looked to Dimitri while Ian's tongue was tied, Stanton not letting him off the hook. "Dimitri, did you and Rose try couples therapy?"

"No, we didn't, and with all do respect, we don't need therapy either."

"Do you see a pattern here?"

"Weren't we talking about Adrian and adoption centers?"

Lissa smiled. "You know in my experience, skeptical people are often just trying to keep the world at arms length, particularly the ones they love because they don't think they deserve their affection."

"Mm," Adrian nodded slowly, straightening and sharing a look with his partner. "Wow. That is so you."

"That is not me."

"Yes, yes, that is so him," he assured Lissa. "You got him nailed, doc."

Lissa wasn't done yet though, shifting her gaze to him as she smiled, jade and emerald eyes locking. "And you, Adrian. I'm sure you have no problem at all charming your way into any situation." This made Adrian simper confidently in return until she continued, "I wonder, however, if that charm is a defensive mechanism and you have trouble sustaining meaningful relationships."

This time, Adrian tilted his head, caught off guard, and shook it slowly as Dimitri nodded. "Nailed him," Dimitri confirmed.

"She did not nail me," Adrian said, meanwhile thinking, _Though that could be arranged_. He choose not to voice that out loud, one because it would only serve to prove her point, and two because he was fairly sure Dimitri would knock him upside the head.

While the bickering continued between the detectives, the rest of the group watched, concocting their own explanations. "Wow, opposites do attract," Stanton mused from her seat, temporarily distracted from her Facebook argument.

"Rose was probably before the petition, huh?" the other couple, Eddie and Mia, offered as an explanation between themselves. The others nodded in agreement.

"That's not- wait, what?" Dimitri asked, coming back into the conversation and lost on where it had detoured.

"Are you married?" Jill asked hopefully, somehow thinking the banter was as cute as marital bickering as she leaned over her husband.

The two detectives stared. Adrian looked about ready to throw himself out his apartment window for real this time around. "You think we're gay."

"No, no, they're detectives," Lissa intervened quickly, while the pair insisted the same thing, flashing their badges as evidence. The group did a conjoined "ooh". Apparently, the idea hadn't dawned on them once. Adrian's subtle hints at cruises and anniversaries probably hadn't helped in that department. Jill looked meekly disappointed as she sank back into her seat.

Lissa exhaled and put her hands in her lap. "You know what we need? We need a rehabilitating exercise. Everyone, stand up," she instructed, the therapist head and surrounding couples standing. Adrian twirled his chair around and stood loftily, hands pocketed, while Dimitri hesitated. Lissa glanced at him. "Dimitri?"

"I'll pass, thank you."

"No? Perhaps you'd rather listen to Adrian tell us more about Rose."

"Oh," Adrian jumped in almost immediately, grinning, "well, there was one time, at a gelato stand-" He was cut off by the abrupt scrape of Dimitri's chair being pushed back, getting to his feet.

Lissa smiled. "Excellent. Now face each other." They did as instructed. "Toes touching."

This time both detectives paused before jointly giving her a sideways, "are-you-serious" look. She wasn't bluffing though, giving them an equally serious look. "Yes, toes actually touching."

Adrian rolled his tongue behind his teeth and cocked his head away, while Dimitri did the same, avoiding each other. The tips of their shoes slowing inched toward each other, reluctant. Lissa watched from the sidelines, savoring her turn of entertainment with crossed arms, waiting. While Dimitri was 6'7", Adrian wasn't far behind, ranging only a few inches below. That didn't seem to help the racking, awkward tension. "Actually... touching."

"Both toes?"

"Both toes."

Adrian stuffed his hands in his pockets, cheek completely turned and toes tapping. Dimitri was in the same state, head turned the other way. Just as Adrian stepped on the tip of Dimitri's boot, their phones rang and broke them out of the exercise like ice water. They gained at least a foot of distance in a second flat Dimitri retrieved his phone, clicking open the notice to their latest case. "We have to go," he informed Lissa, turning and buttoning his coat as he strode out.

"Duty calls. Excuse us, Dr. Dragomir," Adrian said, sparing a few seconds to lean over the circle and kiss her hand, before going to catch up with his partner.

As the door swung closed behind them, Lissa called, "Don't forget your questionnaire."

Mason, the redhead, looked after them. "Why do they get to leave?" he murmured. If Stanton had been his wife, Adrian was fairly sure that remark would have been met with an echoing smack upside his head.

Dimitri was already out the front door by the time Adrian made it down the stairwell. He caught up to him as they crossed the parking lot, Dimitri putting on his sunglasses. Above, the LA sun blazed with heat, the Californian residents passing by in skimpy swimsuits and double-seated bicycles. The building lined the beach, and Dimitri could hear the waves crashing along with the sand crunching under his shoes. "You know this is all your fault," he told Adrian as the brunette matched his stride.

"What, that we looked like the village people?"

"No, that we have to go to therapy in the first place."

"You're the one that pulled that stunt on me," Adrian reminded.

"I wouldn't have in the first place if you learned to apologize."

"I didn't do anything wrong."

Dimitri took a breath, keeping himself from cracking again. A Russian curse word escaped as he exhaled. "Adrian... just be quiet," he instructed as he made his way to the car.

Adrian paused his step, offended, before shaking his head sadly. "You never want to talk anymore, you know that?"

"What part of 'be quiet' don't you understand?"

Adrian tossed Dimitri the keys as the latter went around to the driver's side. It was a standard, mutual agreement between them. Even while being Adrian's car, he preferred controlling the radio than the steering wheel, and Dimitri liked being the one in control. God forbid Dimitri steer the radio. Adrian's ears would bleed from all that 80's music.

Adrian slipped into the passenger side and shut the door. He clicked the handmic installed in the car, reporting in, "Homicide Unit 2 responding, body found in Macurther Park." As soon as he clicked off, he set it aside and began reaching for his back pocket. Dimitri, pulling onto the road, caught him before he could pull out the cigarettes.

"No smoking in the car."

Adrian made a face. "This is my car."

"Just because you plan on carrying on your addiction doesn't mean I have to get cancer, too."

"Fine. Suit yourself." He'd find a way to bide his time another way. He settled back into his seat as Dimitri got onto the major highway, the beach line running along the road and glimmering cerulean in the sunlight. Adrian twirled a pen between his fingers as he studied the assigned questionnaire. Even if he wasn't serious about therapy, any opportunity to push Dimitri's buttons was a fun one. "Question one," he introduced. "'Where did you meet your partner?' That's easy, at a sharp-shooting competition. I won."

"No, I won," Dimitri replied firmly, having deja vu of their bullet argument from last night as Adrian jotted his answer on the paper, the emerald-eyed detective leaning back loftily with his feet kicked up. "And we are not doing that questionnaire."

"Right, right, you won." Meanwhile, Adrian wrote 'I won' in the margin, followed by four exclamation points. "You know Dimitri, I think we should give Dr. Dragomir a chance. She seems like a really smart doc, and if anyone could sort out our almost-divorce, it's her."

Dimitri shot him a skeptical look out of his peripheral. "...You're going to hit on her, aren't you?" When all he got was a wide grin, he groaned. "Adrian. You cannot sleep with our therapist."

"Relax, I'll behave. Unlike most females, our commander tends to be immune to my charm, by some superhuman feat." Alberta was the head of their department, and the one that had ordered them to get counseling. Adrian had tried to "charm" his way out of that one, too. That's how they wound up with two extra weeks tacked onto their therapy agenda. "Besides, I have a girlfriend, thank you very much."

"Really?" Dimitri probed doubtfully. "What's her name, then?"

There was a pause. Several seconds passed before Adrian cleared his throat. "Question two." Dimitri nodded, expecting that lack of answer as he switched lanes. "'What brings you into therapy'?" There was another lapse of silence before Adrian murmured, "Somehow two lines doesn't seem sufficient for that question."

"You're not going to answer, Mr. Questionnaire?"

"I don't know... the truth might sour her initial impression of me."

"You called her opening quote bullshit, you've made your impression. I think she'd expect just about anything out of you at this point."

"In my defense, I prepped that with 'excuse me'." Adrian twirled his pen nonetheless, thinking. Dimitri knew that mischievous glint in his eyes. He was planning something.

"What? What's with that look?"

"Nothing," Adrian answered. Someone his tone completely contradicted his words. "Just thinking about how I can get you to go along with me and not talk about our small incident. That wasn't one of our prize moments, after all."

Dimitri arched an eyebrow. "And why would I hide that from our therapist, exactly?"

"Think of it as a trust-building exercise- one that doesn't involve me catching you in my arms. You don't tell them what happened that got us into therapy, and I won't tell them what happened between you and Rose. Deal?"

The two exchanged a sideways look. Their relationship had boiled down to compromising their blackmail schemes and concealing them from their therapist. No wonder they needed a therapist. Still, Dimitri couldn't pass up that offer and he shook his head in defeat, clicking on the turn signal. Rose wasn't an issue he wanted to sort out, and as far as the incident that had scored them into therapy, that was as much in his best interests as Adrian's. He suppressed another sigh and Russian swear. "Deal," he conceited.

**San Diego, Commissioner's Office, Wednesday, 9:22 AM**

"Bring them in!" Hans shouted, half-standing from his desk chair as tensions were strung tight outside. The entire office was in chaos. Sydney Sage and Rose Hathaway came stumbling in, each thrust by armed escorts. The partnering detectives looked about ready to go at each other even after having their pistols confiscated, and from her boxing background, Hans knew the latter could knock the blonde out without breaking a nail.

Her fury wasn't without reason either. "Sage, you explain this right now!" Hans barked.

"And what would you like me to explain?" she shot back thickly, trying to keep her composure. Rose didn't have half that grace, scoffing in disbelief. The guard that brought her in had to restrain her again as she reared toward another punch.

"I want you to tell me why you just aimed a gun at Hathaway!"

"There were extenuating circumstances."

"I wasn't going to shoot him!" Rose snapped, blood boiling, the anger seeping into her bone marrow. "You had no right to point a gun at the back of my head!"

"Yes, because you appear fully in control of yourself," she replied.

"_Enough_." Hans sent their escorts out of the room to clean up the outside mess, Rose shrugging hers off forcefully. Luckily, she was simmering down and didn't look heated enough to throw a punch anymore, so long as she wasn't provoked any further. "Now I don't know what has gotten into you two, but I'm putting an end to it."

"And what exactly do you suggest?"

"I don't know, Sage, but if you two don't work this out, you'll both wind up cleaning out bins from the evidence room for your new career. I don't want that for my top detectives anymore than you do."

Rose crossed her arms imposingly. It wasn't the first time she'd earned a scolding from Hans, and she knew it wouldn't be her last. Still, she couldn't help but be annoyed as her anger began ebbing away. "What do you want us to do, get marriage counseling?" she asked sarcastically, not glancing once at her partner. Even if Hans was reassured she wasn't going to punch her, she wasn't as confident about her self-control.

He exhaled sharply, the 50-year old looking far past his years. Some days he swore he was too old for this job, especially with people like Rose and Sydney running around. "No Hathaway, I want-" Hans stopped himself before he could finish, thinking. He straightened. "You know what, that's exactly what's going to happen."

For once, Rose Hathaway was thrown off guard as she stared back, incredulous. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You two are going into marriage counseling."

"_What_?" they exclaimed in unison before shooting daggers at each other.

"Excellent, planting that idea in his head, Rose," Sydney said.

"It's called sarcasm, Sydney, I didn't expect him to take it seriously- and neither should you."

"If you two say one more word about sarcasm, I'm confiscating your guns for another week and you can test out how you like the evidence room." Both clamped their lips shut. Hans knew they would go right back at it as soon as they left his office, but a moment of silence was a sacred one around here. He dug out their files and put them on his desk, papers reaming out the sides. "I'm sending you both to the therapist my ex-wife and I went to back in the day, understood?"

"Your ex-wife?" Rose inquired. "I can see that therapy must have worked wonders." Sydney had to suppress another biting comment at that; Rose's old marriage wasn't well-known, but damn, had the fall-out been messy. She wasn't really one to talk in the alter department.

"Maybe you can talk out your problems, even your messy past, detective. You of all people should know the value of closure."

The ex-CIA agent had no witty reply for that, tripping over her words. Hans looked satisfied at not being talked back to for once. "LA, Friday. That's an order." He stamped the papers and Sydney looked at the red mark like a sign-off to her execution day. She couldn't protest it anymore, though. The command was final.

**Los Angeles, Macurther Park, Wednesday, 10:01 AM**

The dark Camaro rolled along the park's curb at the top of a small, grass-covered hill. Stooped down a few yards ahead, the under belly of a bridge was warded off by yellow police tape and crowded with meandering civilians. Dimitri wasn't surprised; like a train wreck, tragedies tended to attract people.

The two homicide detectives popped out of the car and started their way down, only to find a familiar PD member from the old days, Mikhail, waiting at the bottom. He arched an eyebrow, but smiled. "Hey, I thought you two broke up."

"Almost," Adrian answered, Mikhail handing the detectives latex gloves as they walked and talked. "We're in couples counseling."

"Yeah, right," he chuckled. When Dimitri remained more quiet and stoic than usual, he paused. "Wait, seriously?"

Adrian shrugged. "We wanted to find the magic again. What about you and Sonya? Need any quality bonding time?"

"I think suggesting the idea of therapy would start more problems than solve them."

"Wise man," Dimitri replied, ducking under the police tape with them in tow. The crowd whispered behind them, other PD members lingering around the crime scene and snapping pictures of the area. "What do we have?"

Mikhail nodded over to the left side. The bridge was littered with random scraps of belongings, the homeless community vacating their makeshift homes in wake of the murder; amidst the clutter and trash bags was a man laying on his belly. "Victim's a white male, early 20's, John Doe. Defensive wounds on his hands. Puncture wounds on his chest and neck."

"Knife was the cause of death?" Adrian asked.

"Looks like it. We haven't recovered one yet, though. Right now the theory flitting around is a junkie score gone wrong, so far as the crowd is concerned."

Dimitri leaned down and clicked on a flashlight, the tunnel blocking off a good portion of external light. He studied the victim for a couple moments before shaking his head. "I don't think so. He wasn't killed here. The scrapes on his back indicate he was moved."

"He's not homeless either," Adrian chimed in, kneeling a few feet away to examine the surroundings. He motioned toward the victim's clothing. "Designer jeans, Gucci apparel, and manicured nails. I wouldn't suggest taking a DNA sample from his hair, either. It's probably contaminated by all that Axe spray gel."

"So he's your long lost twin?"

Adrian smirked at the comment. It was actually impressive when Dimitri could match his wit. If he hadn't had his hands full, he would have applauded. Glad he was wearing gloves, he pushed back a trash bag, a metal glint getting caught in his flashlight's beam. A knife. The cherry on top was the red blood coating parts of the blade. "Found the murder weapon," he called. The two other police members straightened, coming over.

Dimitri examined the small knife and its etched hilt from the side. It had been engraved with small scripture and an eagle. "What does that say, Scouts?"

"Yup. Short for Boy Scouts. Do they have those in Russia or did you not get badges as a kid for shoveling snow for the Polar Express?"

Dimitri chose to pointedly ignore his partner, turning to Mikhail again. "No witnesses?"

The blue-eyed PD member shrugged haplessly. "I'm sure there are, but none of them are talking." He glanced at the gossiping crowd. It was hard to pin the stirring emotion between them.

Adrian stood up, taking off his latex gloves. The rest of the crime scene seemed to be combed through pretty thoroughly. "You know, my first case in burglary was in a neighborhood like this. A guy had crashed his car and by the time the ambulance had arrived, his shoes, wallet, wedding band- everything, gone. Just like our guy. He's barefoot, too."

Dimitri pondered this for a moment before scanning the crowd again. Most of them were low to middle class, if not homeless. Among the throng of couples and small clusters of peers, there was a boy, about 17-years old. While he had a tattered baseball cap and dirt coating his world-weary jeans, his chose of footwear screamed a different image- about a $200 difference compared to his apparel. "Think he can afford wing tips?"

"Doubtful," Adrian mused, hands pocketed. "I'm just glad I wasn't the one found here. These Louis Vuitton shoes would have been gone in milliseconds and I've only worn them twice."

"What a tragedy that would have been." The two detectives began making their way to the tape, Dimitri locking his eyes with the boy. Apparently, that was imposing enough. He immediately began inching back before taking off altogether, shoving people out of his way and running. Dimitri swore and raced after him. "Running!" he alerted the local PD members, along with his partner, who had frozen.

Adrian did a double-take, looking at his new shoes and then back up at the retreating figures. He hadn't planned on chasing anyone down today. If he had, he would have worn last season Coach. "But-"

"Adrian!"

First the lobster, then the Camaro, and now his Louis Vuitton dress shoes. Why did they always have to run? Cursing his bad luck, he visibly crossed himself much to the bemusement of the crime scene spectators, praying he wouldn't have to replace his flats before taking off after his partner and latest suspect into LA traffic.

**Forgive me for dropping off the face of planet, I completely lost track of time; hopefully, this 12-page chapter will make up for it a fraction. No? Ah, well a girl can try. Sad face. As far as H&D is concerned, I'll be posting later this week as soon as I shove work and school and life out of the way (such meddlesome factors, I must say).**

**Thanks for all the continuing support! You guys are amazing, and each Review/Favorite/Follow is absolutely stunning. You each deserve a kiss on the hand from Adrian.**


	3. Target Practice and Deadly Judging

Honks and beeps erupted behind Dimitri as he chased the 17-year old in the ball cap, the adolescent darting into the traffic-filled street lining the park. Luckily, it was hard to miss the imposingly tall detective, and most of the taxis and cars screeched to a halt before hitting him, opting to blare their horns instead. Adrian was grateful for it, the commotion aside. The time for the drivers between halting and recomposing themselves was enough of a lapse for him to run through the aisle of cars, trailing behind the other chasing figures. It was like a bad game of dog, cat, and mouse.

Dimitri paid little attention to his lagging partner, honed in on his target as they both reached the sidewalk of the busy city and shoved through the foot traffic at full sprint. The shouts of irritation replaced the wailing of horns. Still, he couldn't stop. He couldn't lose the lead. Worn-down, urban buildings lined this part of town, most of the residents Dimitri ran by reflecting that image. Graffiti was painted along the blank walls and dandelion weeds shot up between the cracked, buckling pavement.

The boy spotted an abandoned, full shopping cart along one of the walls and threw it to the ground behind him, hoping to slow down the policemen. Dimitri dodged the spilled contents cleanly, just as Adrian managed to catch up, using the higher ledge of a lamppost to jump over them on the other side. "Where did you learn that move?" Dimitri huffed.

"I don't need to train at the Bolshoi to be athletic, you know," Adrian answered, running more breathless than his partner. Despite his panting and crack at jokes, Adrian _was _fairly athletic when it boiled down to it; it was the heat that was getting to him right now. Heavy sunlight was one of the reasons he'd bowed out from gym classes in high school. He didn't know what it was, but it tended to suck the strength right out off him. Regardless, listing it as an allergy wasn't met fondly in his physician's office, and it wasn't doing him any good here. Dimitri was starting to pick up on that, as well.

The boy turned around a corner ahead, away from most of the crowd. The detectives sprinted after him. A group of pigeons flew up into the air in a frenzy at the approaching figures, the boy swatting them away as he ran and glanced to the left. Spotting a run-down apartment complex, he switched plans and ran through the gate. Dimitri and Adrian skidded to a stop outside, the former pointing to the left. "Go, to the side!" There was no arguing. Adrian ran to the left to cut him off while Dimitri pursued him again into the building

.The dim, musky light of the corridor and a droning buzz met Dimitri as he shoved through the front door. His eyes darted around; it took him only a second to find the culprit of the noise. A mailman was getting buzzed into the upstairs building. The suspect, two steps ahead of him, shoved the UPS/FedEx guy out of the way as the pathway opened up. He flew up the stairs, the door beginning to swing closed. Dimitri sprinted to it as it threatened to lock on him, catching it just in time and retching it back. He went up after him.

The patched carpet didn't mute his footsteps, and as he got to the landing of the first floor and paused to assess, he could hear loud echoes trailing further up. The boy just wouldn't give up. Dimitri raced after him, going up two more levels before spotting him running down the hallway.

The boy was going down the west wing, almost reaching the end of it. He jostled the locked doorknobs on two of the end rooms while Dimitri pulled out his pistol and aimed it, walking closer. "LA PD," he called. The boy froze and angled back toward him. All of the rooms were locked. The only thing behind him was a sealed, emergency exit, the wide mar of glass showing the fire escape lying behind it. A dead end. "You really think you could outrun me in those shoes?"

The boy locked his jaw fiercely before turning and diving out the glass, shattering it. Dimitri lowered his gun, spreading his arms incredulously and glancing up. "Why?" he mouthed above before following him through the jagged shards. The boy's footsteps thundered down the metal stairs before reaching the drop-down ladder on the side of the building. He chose to jump down the remaining couple yards instead of climbing, feet thudding in the dirt. He hesitated and glanced up. Hearing Dimitri far up ahead, he began to relax, thinking he was in the clear. That's when a pair of hands grabbed him by his relaxed shoulders. "Hi there," Adrian greeted happily as he shoved the suspect against the graffiti-littered walls, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Nice to see you."

While the boy began shouting in protest and Adrian rolled the twig of tobacco between his lips, Dimitri clambered down the metal rings of the ladder. "Good timing," he conceited to his partner. "A little too good."

He shrugged. Apparently, praise was second-nature to him. "Maybe I can read minds," he said while the boy struggled, Adrian ignoring him to make a spooky motion with his fingers. "Maybe I'll invade your dreams tonight, USSR."

Dimitri got down fully, his boots crunching in the dirt as he walked over. "That would be a nightmare, if I'm not mistaken by the definition."

"Oo, point for Belikov. You've impressed me twice today, I think that's a record."

"You two are crazy!" the boy shouted, cutting through their conversation and bringing their attention back into their current situation. "Let go of me already, man!" Adrian willingly obliged and let Dimitri take over and pin the boy to the wall while he stepped away.

Probably not what he had had in mind, especially since Dimitri was rougher, shoving the thriving figure against the brick. "Stop struggling, you're making it worse on yourself."

"Let _go_! I didn't do anything!"

"You killed a guy for his shoes, that's a start," Adrian remarked.

"I didn't kill anyone, man!"

Adrian sighed, smoke billowing between his lips as he switched his lighter for his gun. "He's lying, let's just shoot him," he said casually to his partner, pointing the gun at the boy pressed against the wall. The kid's face turned white. Apparently being trapped completely made the aspect of a gun twice as frightening.

"Adrian, you cannot shoot him," Dimitri replied stonily.

"Sure I can, that's what we carry guns around for. He ran from the crime scene, he's wearing the victim's shoes, and he scuffed mine on our pointless Wylie Coyote chase. Let's face it, he doesn't have the best track record this morning. And I'm betting after I shoot him, we'll find evidence. If not, we'll plant some." The kid's eyes boggled from his head. Dimitri knew exactly what Adrian was doing- and the scary part was, it was working. "See?" he continued. "He looks guilty enough. We'll put it in the untraceables and wrap this case up."

Adrian repositioned his aim and the boy cried, "Alright, alright, chill out man, don't shoot! All I did was take his cell phone and his wallet, he didn't even have any money in it!"

Adrian had to bite back a smile as his arm relaxed to his side. Dimitri just shook his head, still disapproving of his interrogation techniques while he told the boy, "Alright, turn around, put your hands on your head." The boy did as told, casting wary, darting eyes at Adrian while Dimitri patted him down, checking his pockets. Dimitri spared a glance back at his partner as well. "Did he really scuff your shoes?"

"No, not to worry, my children are safe. I just wanted to throw that in for dramatic effect. If he had, the shooting threat would have been far more real."

Dimitri pulled out an iPhone from his jacket, the screen as cracked as the window above. He examined it for a moment before shaking his head again, handing it to Adrian. "Cell phone's busted." Dimitri found the wallet a moment later, easing up and stepping back with Adrian to examine it. The boy remained against the wall, swallowing hard. How Adrian had managed to instill more fear into him than he did, Dimitri would never know. He checked the victim's driver's license. "Toby Whitaker."

"Huh. Last name's familiar, at least."Dimitri glanced at the bills slot. Sure enough, there was no trace of money or anything the boy would have found valuable- only a hastily-scribbled note poking out the top. He took it out and read it while refolding the wallet, murmuring aloud, "'Dear son, I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you. Love, Dad'."

He read the header of the note and felt a familiar, migraine throb loom behind his temples. He closed his eyes, exhaling. This job would be the death of him. Adrian glanced up, sensing his distress immediately. "What? His lottery ticket didn't win the Powerball?" Dimitri handed him the note.

The green-eyed detective glimpsed over the note curiously before picking up on Dimitri's discovery. They shared a knowing look over the paper. "Chief Judge Whitaker," he read.

Dimitri tucked the wallet into the front of his jacket to return to evidence, knowing Adrian was going to ask for a tequila stop in the immediate future. Dimitri was almost right there with him. "Our victim's the son of a judge."

**San Diego, Wednesday, 12:40 PM****  
****  
**Rose didn't flinch as her rounds went off, gunshots ringing in a steady rhythm as she squeezed the trigger over and over. The target paper blew back under the force, five bullets carving holes in the chest cavity, the sixth pinned directly between the eyes. Besides boxing, this was the only way she knew how to blow off steam. And given the level her temper was peaking, she had opted for the lethal outlet. She reloaded, jamming in a new clip. The routine repeated.

Christian had to cover his ears in the background as he slipped in, Rose firing off again on a fresh canvas. Again, she didn't miss a shot. He wasn't surprised. They'd gone at it a lot as kids, but ever since she started carrying a pistol and badge, it was hard to keep the sibling rivalry on a level playing field. "Sure you got him?" he called when she ran out shots again.

She turned, setting down the gun and taking out one of her earplugs, walls still bouncing with the humming ring. She arched an eyebrow at him. It was a trick she had picked up from her ex-husband. "Christian. What are you doing roaming around here?"

He lowered his hands and pocketed them, walking over. With the gun temporarily out of the picture, he was pretty sure he could approach her without a bullet-proof, Navy Seals vest. "Sydney told me what happened," he said, not one to sugar-coat his intentions. "Well, the end result, at least."

Rose unconsciously clenched her jaw. She didn't know when Christian and Sydney had gotten buddy-buddy and comfortable enough to casually text, but she was far from thrilled with it. "I'm not talking about that."

"I thought that would be your reaction. Therapy could be good for you, you know. It's right up there on the list behind anger management."

"You're only saying that because your fiance's a therapist."

Christian shrugged, not denying the accusation. Rose had only met his to-be bride a few times, but they had meshed well in their small meetings nonetheless. Honestly, if she were to get someone as down-to-earth as Lissa Dragomir, Rose could probably manage to get through therapy with minimal scathing involved. Like the case with her boss, she tended not to be so lucky though. "I'm just saying, you should give it a shot."

"I don't have much of a choice in the matter anymore, now do I? I'm surprised Hans didn't issue a court order," Rose muttered. If there were a legal process for that order to carry through cleanly, she was positive she would have found the notice in her mail slot months ago. She crossed her arms, eying him curiously. "Speaking of which, I'm surprised you're not in session."

Christian smirked, blue eyes dancing. Even while being one of the best lawyers in the city (honestly, the concept itself was still terrifying in Rose's mind), he still couldn't shake the cynical edge he'd had since a kid. If anything, Rose had pictured Christian as a regular arsonist back in the day, not on the side of justice and well-fashioned suits. "The hearing was pushed back to next Tuesday," he explained.

"Boy, I bet you cried into a bucket of KFC wings over that heartbreak."

He made a mock face of horror. "Why, Rose. You know I'm strictly on Taco Bell diet, I have to slim down for the wedding." He smoothed down the front of his shirt for emphasis.

Rose scoffed, unable to help cracking a small smile in return. "Please, you're a twig, just like your fiance."

"Still? Damn. I'll have to write a strongly-worded letter to the publisher of _20 Minute Abs_."

She shook her head. She knew what he was pulling. Even if they'd bickered nonstop when they were little- hell, they still did- Christian was always one for lightening the atmosphere with some healthy sarcasm and commentary. Like brother like sister. Too bad her current mind set made it hard to crack a joke. Slowly her smile slipped and she wiped her lips on the back of her hand, reverting back to their earlier topic. "What case are you working on?" she asked quietly.

"The Badica case. You guys brought in the defendant five months ago."

Rose nodded slowly, murmuring, "Right. The sicko killed the whole family and then wrote that message on the bathroom mirror in blood." Christian remained quiet for once, his snarky side sobering up along with hers. It was strange to see her so out of character. Normally she could shrug anything off- or, at the very least, punch it out of her way. Something was off. Way off.

And Christian was fairly sure he knew what was behind it. Standing across from his twin sister, he asked quietly, "What happened out there, Rose? What happened with Sydney?"

She shook her head in response. Christian might have joked about anger management, but it was hard to shake off her CIA impulses._ 'I wasn't going to shoot him!'_

Yeah. That's exactly what she had said to Hans. But they both knew better than that. While Rose stood there in the training room, she was in a different place entirely, reliving that morning. She was reliving the fury that had shaken her so deep in her core, she was serene as she picked up her gun from her desk, immune to the killing instrument's weight. She was reliving her slow footsteps as she walked toward the exit, the rest of the world a mindless drone. The only thing she had processed was the click of Sydney's pistol as she unlocked the safety, feeling its aim burn its mark on the back of her head.

"She stopped me," Rose told him simply.

"From what?"

She looked up at Christian. He was taken aback immediately. The look in her dark eyes was nothing he'd ever seen before- not when she had split from Dimitri, not when she'd dropped out of the CIA. Those had all been steadfast gazes, haunted but determined. This was something else entirely. There was no reasoning. It was feral. Smoldering. Primal. And even while he'd been taken aback, nothing could have prepared him for her next point-blank words. "From murdering a serial killer."

**Los Angeles, Wednesday, 3:00 PM**

The hum of the car lingered behind Dimitri's words as he told his partner, "You realize 'see you tonight' isn't the typical sign-off for a detective to a medical examiner, correct?"

Adrian grinned as he clicked the end button, wrapping up his 10-minute conversation over the phone while Dimitri was busy driving across the city to the Whitaker's mansion. "It is when the new ME is pretty and asks for pointers. Who am I to turn down a damsel in distress?"

Dimitri didn't even have to give him a look this time. His exasperation rang loud and clear. "I hate when you date women at work."

"You know, dating is a strong term- hence my silence during that section on the questionnaire." That earned him an eye roll. "Besides, where else am I supposed to meet women during my coffee breaks? The Starbucks well has run dry and the only other girls I see on the job are either dead, a suspect, or under arrest."

"Sounds like the perfect pool of women for you, actually."

"Ouch. Another arrow through the heart, Dimitri."

Dimitri turned onto a side street, dodging a traffic jam ahead. Palm trees and ocean-view scenery whipped by the tinted windows. "Can you just tell me what evidence found already?"

"Sure," he quipped happily. "If you ask nicely."

"Adrian, I am not afraid to drive this car into a ditch, or even into the ocean."

Adrian took that as a 'no' to his request. He really was no fun some days. "Alright, alright, easy tiger. The life of my Camaro is spared another day." He kicked his feet up again as he looped his partner in on the news. "Tamara confirmed the blood on the knife is Toby's. Now as far as prints go, the killer did a good job of cleaning up, but she managed to find a partial on the hilt of the knife. She ran it through our data base. Whoever else handled that knife doesn't have a criminal record."

Dimitri frowned. "Did you find anything about the Whitaker family?"

"Not much that stuck out. Toby was in a rehab center for drug use, but it looks like he was recovering well. Other than Toby, the judge has another son, Zach. He lives here at home, with his dad."

"And the mother?"

"Died five years ago. Cancer."

Dimitri pondered this for a moment before being pulled back into the present, rolling up along the gate of the mansion. Reporters and news vans littered the outside premises of the house, eager to get any word on the case, all of their attention shifting to the detective's car. Apparently, the story had gotten out. "Here we go," Dimitri muttered.

Adrian glanced out his window as they slowly rolled by the swarm of faces, their shouts muted by the glass. He noticed in particular a small brunette up front, trying to flag them down. "Hey, Channel 2 has a new reporter," he noted to his partner. He gave her his best lopsided grin and wave before telling Dimitri, "She's cute, too."

"Didn't you just get off the phone with your recent prey?"

He ignored that small jab, still playing the charmer for the reporters. "I was thinking for you."

"Please don't ever try to set me up again."

"Second time's the charm."

The gate opened to them and they rolled through up the long driveway, the reporters looking forlorn and empty-handed behind them.

* * *

Dimitri set down his cup, the tea rippling and dancing in the sunlight. "We're very sorry for your loss, sir."

Judge Whitaker just shook his head, running a hand through his graying, salt-and-pepper hair. They were outside on the patio, the lavish space furnished with exotic plants, umbrellas, and a sofa furniture set probably imported from Malaysia and crafted from the finest silk. Adrian knew; his parents had had a couch just like this back in the day. While the detectives sat on the green-and-brown striped cushions, the judge was pacing behind the opposing-facing couch, unable to keep still. "It's not like I hadn't imagined this scenario a thousand times," he told the two honestly. "Toby had been addicted to heroin for years after his mom died. When he finally bottomed out and agreed to go into rehab though... I thought maybe things would be alright for him."

"Did he complete the program?" Dimitri asked.

"Yes. He transitioned into sober living nine months ago."

The detectives looked at each other. It was sad to say, but they'd seen this situation before. Many times before. Adrian leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "When was the last time you talked to Toby?"

"Three days ago. I went to visit him with Zach, on family day at the sober house."

Adrian glanced around. "And where is Zach now? Can we talk to him?"

"He went for a drive. He, uh, does that when he gets upset. Just like his mother used to. It doesn't help that he and Toby got into a fight not too long ago, I don't even know if they patched things up." His cell rang on the coffee table between them. The judge went around the couch and sat down, checking the caller before cutting them to voice mail.

"Was that Zach?" Dimitri inquired. Judge Whitaker shook his head. Dimitri paused for a moment before asking his next question. "Was... was Toby a Boy Scout when he was a kid?"

He glanced up, puzzled at that line of probing. "I... no, Zach was. Why?"

"We found a Scout knife at the scene. We think it was the murder weapon."

"Where was Zach the night before last?" Adrian followed up.

He looked between the two policeman. "Are you suggesting that Zach is a suspect in his brother's murder?" He shook his head again, head spinning. "No. No, Zach is innocent. He was here all night doing his homework. Studying. I went to bed at 11 and when I got up at 6AM, he was still studying."

"That's a lot of homework," Adrian remarked.

"He has dyslexia. It takes him longer to tackle material," he said, barely conscious of the explanation. Dimitri didn't blame him. He was grieving the death of his first-born, after all. The judge took a deep breath and closed his eyes, recomposing himself. "Listen. I know I... I failed as a parent with Toby. But Zach is a good kid. And he would never do something like that. Not to anyone. Not to his brother... not Toby."

Dimitri could only nod in understanding while Adrian exhaled, combing his fingers through his perfectly messy hair. They wrapped up their questioning shortly after, the detectives leaving the father to come to terms with the murder in peace. As they started back to their car along elegantly grooved tiles, Dimitri's phone buzzed in his pocket.

Adrian perked almost instantly. "Is that the Channel 2 news girl?"

"No, you were too busy dealing with work for once to slip her my number, remember? It's Alberta," he informed his partner. There was underlying, dreading tone in his voice as he said the last part, almost worse than the idea of Adrian setting him up on a paparazzi swarm of blind dates. Adrian didn't like it at all.

"What is it, a break in the case?" He stopped himself, voice low and serious. "Did the department run out of coffee?"

"Worse," he answered snapping his phone shut and popping open the driver's door. "She wants us back in for therapy critique." Adrian's mask of horror wasn't faked as he paused with his fingers wrapped around the handle, contemplated on how badly he wanted to get into the car. As he reluctantly opened it as well and got in, he secretly hoped someone would jump him with a Scout knife on their way back to headquarters.

**Fun Fact: I wrote most of this on my birthday Friday. If you're wondering why I didn't post it, I was too busy being surprised with a one-hour session with a male masseuse, who I imagine is the love child of Ben Barnes and Ambrose. And yes, it's natural to feel jealousy at this point. I never wanted to leave that table. God Bless whoever had the 4:00 appointment behind me.**

**But back to the chapter. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this one as the plot thickens; if not, Rose and Sydney have a date in therapy coming up, so you can look forward to that. Reviews/Favorites/Follows are always met with much thanks.**


	4. Rooftop Dares and Beautiful Beginnings

Adrian's wish didn't come true. No one came and mugged them at a red light, and nothing liable popped up that could have delayed the meeting (an emergency side stop at a _Wine and Spirits _store not counting as a excuse). As he sat in the stiff, office chair, he entertained himself by imagining how different this scenario would have played out if he'd done a barrel roll off the side of the LA freeway, Dimitri probably slamming his forehead on the steering wheel's blaring horn at his idiocy.

However, Dimitri was one step ahead of his wacky stunts and kept the doors of the car firmly locked at all times like a parent minding a curious infant. Adrian had pondered the idea seriously while on the highway, too. He'd thought better of it at the last second. While it was tempting, he wasn't sure how well his silk shirt would hold up in the blazing California dirt after hitting it at 65 mph. So, ultimately, he'd towed after Dimitri into Alberta's office. It was still a fun notion to toy with, though.

Especially since Alberta's current visage voided every definition of the word "fun". "Absolutely not," she declared.

Dimitri, while normally bowing to superiors, held his ground this time, pleading to her logical side. "Captain, we already have a few solid leads we're working on. It would add more difficulty to the case if you were to hand it off to another pair now."

"Just because you're the first ones that responded doesn't mean you'll get the case. The victim is the son of a federal judge. That changes things." Alberta was a seasoned police head in her fifties, maintaining a clear head and firm grip on her apartment. While she held Dimitri and Adrian in high regards among the rest, their track record this year was bleak. "This is a high-profile case."

"Which means you need it solved, and fast," Adrian put in quickly, settling back to reality and the debate at hand. With his natural charm and round-about logic, he could have swooped the title of debate head in high school. Too bad that was all but social suicide, and he rarely showed up to school to begin with. Most of the time he chose to smoke cigarettes in the parking lot on top of his history teacher's hood instead of attending Stan's droning class. "You know we're your best detectives," he added gallantly afterward.

"You were," she contradicted. "That is, until you pulled that stunt. Or have you forgotten that already, Detective Ivashkov?"

"We're going to therapy for those reasons," Dimitri answered sagely.

Alberta didn't appear as convinced, crossing her arms. Even though the detectives had a good few inches height-wise on her, Dimitri especially, they seemed to pale in comparison to her stature as she looked down on them from behind her desk like a hawk. Normally Adrian would have blamed it on their sitting vs. not sitting positions, but he knew better with Alberta. In the same age group as Jamie Lee Curtis or no, she was a force to be reckoned with. "That's the other reason you're here. I heard about your session today. Doesn't seem like you're making much progress- or that you're willing to."

Adrian's face twisted into one of feigned shock. "I'm fairly sure that's a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Save the lawyer crap, Ivashkov. You gave up your confidentiality rights when you signed up."

"Captain," Dimitri cut in before Adrian could make any more comments that would inadvertently boot them off the case. "It was only the first session. Adrian's learning how to express himself in a more... creative manner."

"Yes. And Dimitri is learning how to apologize and not take charge of everything," Adrian tacked on angelically, knowing the addition would push his partner's buttons. It did. Dimitri had to bite back his annoyance as it raised its ugly head, forcing a stiff smile again for the sake of appearing professional. Letting on that he wanted to smack Adrian upside the head like usual wouldn't score any points in their favor. "We can't thank you enough for putting us into couples therapy," he continued. "It is stellar."

Alberta shot daggers between them, not fooled by their chummy appearance. "...Why do my two best detectives have to be the biggest pain in my ass?"

"I feel like that's a rhetorical question."

Before Adrian could bask in the fact they indeed _were _still on top, and before Alberta could make another sharp comment, a rapt on the open door cut into the meeting. Dimitri glanced over and inwardly groaned at the two walking migraines that had just sauntered into the office. Adrian didn't even bother masking his displeasure, making a face.

This only served to make his haughty grin grow. Even his blue eyes seemed to smirk. "Are we interrupting something?" Jesse Zeklos asked, trailed by his equally annoying partner, Ralf.

"You are, but come in anyway," Alberta replied thickly, still in a not-so-great mood. It didn't help they had already welcomed themselves in. Jesse and Ralph were another pair in the homicide unit, a pair as dysfunctional and annoying as the high school quarterback and his shadowing sidekick. Most days, they managed to annoy Dimitri and Adrian more than the issues between themselves. That was an impressive feat in and of itself.

"Yes, Alberta here needs you two to help pick out a new color for her office," Adrian quipped.

Jesse laughed hollowly, Ralph jumping in almost immediately after with his own round of fake chuckling. "As hilarious as ever, you two," the former answered, feigning good-hearted rivalry and patting Dimitri's shoulder. Dimitri stiffened. Even though he was the poster boy for calm reasoning and zen lessons, Adrian kindled a small hope, waiting for the day Dimitri took Jesse out with one, swift punch.

"Knock it off," Alberta put in stonily. She'd been in this business long enough to see through any bullshit. Her attention flitted back to Adrian and Dimitri, informing them, "While it's great you two think you're getting along so well, the DA disagrees. She wants to put Zeklos and Zarkosy on the case."

_That _grabbed their attention. They straightened in their chairs while the opposite pair grinned victoriously. "What?" Dimitri demanded, uncharacteristically thrown off guard.

"You want Cagney and Lacey on the case? You just said we were your two best detectives."

"You might be, but the DA does not agree."

Adrian shook his head sadly, emerald eyes on her. "You need to learn how to trust."

Dimitri, recomposing himself almost instantly, chose to stick to his earlier, higher calling, and pursue logical reasoning- especially since Alberta was unfazed by Adrian's charm. "I understand the pressure of the DA, but what's the point of putting us in therapy if you don't give us a chance to prove we've changed, Captain?"

"How can we forge a meaningful relationship if you don't allow us to self-actualize?"

Jesse rolled his eyes in the background. "You guys are psycho-babbling sociopaths."

Adrian glanced back at the two from the lofty position in his chair, jade eyes twinkling. Only Dimitri caught the hard edge to them lurking in the dark depths, matching Adrian's personality, which was often a double-edged sword. "Those were some big words, Zeklos, I'm impressed. Studying your vocabulary for the SAT? Maybe you'll actually pass this time."

Jesse's blue eyes flashed like fire, but it was Ralph that came to his defensive, sneering. "What are you, still in Junior high?"

"Those were a tough six years for you, huh Ralph?"

"Shut it, all of you," Alberta ordered. It was amazing how the sole female in the room could silence four strong-headed idiots with five words. They obliged instantly, including Adrian, though an impish smile found its way on its lips; even Dimitri couldn't help the upward twitch of us mouth at the way he was getting under Ralph and Jesse's skin. Alberta exhaled sharply under her breath. They really were a thorn in her side. Still, she couldn't deny they had a point. Crossing her arms, she made them a deal, and sincerely prayed it wouldn't come back to bite her as she honed in on Dimitri and Adrian again. "Fine. I'll put you two on this case" -Adrian and Dimitri perking instantly- "but _only _if you take therapy seriously."

"Absolutely."

"No doubt," they agreed at the same time with separate answers. There was no hesitation as the snagged the opportunity. Despite the almost-divorce and couples therapy situation, both detectives were in this business for a reason. They liked dealing out justice. It was their only common ground.

Alberta shot them each a skeptical look to drive home her point. "And that doesn't mean just saying what I want to hear."

"Never."

"Nope."

She sighed, not missing Adrian's full-fledged grin and Dimitri's devoted resolution frictioning his partner's goofy glee. She was already regretting this decision.

**Sober House, LA, Thursday, 10:36 AM**

While both detectives had been sent home after Alberta's charming critique session, even Dimitri's workaholic drive dwindling under the exhaustion of couples therapy, Thursday was spent tracking down their leads. This included first and foremost finding Zach, the victim's brother and their prime suspect on account of the scout knife. Adrian wasn't in high spirits as they rolled up to the Sober House, though. The glow he radiated indicated he'd spent the night in female company and probably enough alcohol to K.O. an elephant, but weariness tugged at him, too. It was all but palpable. And if Adrian was barely tolerable most days, the extra dose of exhaustion and hangover pushed that toleration to its brink. "Well," he remarked as they slowed near the edge of the curb, slots all but nonexistent, "the parking here sucks."

Dimitri made his own spot and unbuckled himself. "Tragic. Just imagine how bad it must be for the driver."

Adrian didn't respond, either not hearing him or pretending not to, popping out of the car and stretching instead. Dimitri noted as he arched his back that Adrian still had his liquor canister and cigarettes next to his probably empty pistol, clearly marking his priorities. The fact he was openly and happily carrying alcohol into a Sober House was the cherry on top. Dimitri shook his head in exasperation. Yeah. It was really a wonder how they were still on the force, let alone this case. Adrian yawned like a cat and trailed behind him as he walked up, mumbling, "Do we really have to do this? Can't we just call?"

"Oh, haven't you heard?" he commented flatly as he flashed his badge to security, getting the two inside. "This is the best place in the city for parties."

While Adrian knew he was joking, he still looked at his partner sadly, like you would a one-legged flamingo with no balance. "I bet this is the kind of place where you had your best college memories and parties. No alcohol, just meditation, trench coats, and bad decisions."

"It's a duster, Adrian."

"I'm sure that's what Rick Roll claims about his 1980 music video, too."

It was Dimitri's turn to ignore his partner, spared from that moronic conversation by two men striding purposefully towards them. The one was average size and build, with blonde hair and blue eyes like a typical Californian surfer. The only truly striking thing about him was his left eye, which glimmered like glass in the sunlight. The second man, however, was striking in almost every aspect, and Adrian played dark, organ music in his head as he approached. While the blonde guy was tan and fit, the second was tall with gaunt cheeks, and had translucent, paper-like skin. Adrian was surprised he didn't spontaneously burst into flames from the sun. It was safer for both that Adrian didn't voice any of his thoughts, letting Dimitri take over as their distance diminished. "Can I help you gentlemen?" the blonde asked.

"Hopefully. I'm Detective Belikov, this is Detective Ivashkov. Do you know by chance who's in charge of this place?"

Understanding lit up his features, followed by sadness. He realized the reason why they were here: to follow up on a resident's murder. "That would be me, Keith Darnell," he introduced before gesturing to the man beside him. "This is Isaiah Frost, house security." Mr. Gaunt-and-Pale nodded.

"You both live here?"

Keith shook his head. "I do, but Isaiah doesn't. I called him when I realized Toby was missing. I figured you all would follow up sooner or later."

"My company secures all the sober houses in the area," Isaiah explained, tucking a hand in his front suit pocket, only to produce a business card and hand it to Adrian. Adrian noted that his voice was gravely and the way the sunlight hit his eyes, the irises took on a reddish tint. Adrian made sure to take the card by the slightest corner, politely stapling his mouth shut. In his mind, he thought Isaiah's company was better off guarding vampire clans and voodoo cults than recovering patients, especially since the CEO looked like death's second-hand man. So, yes. Better to keep his mouth shut and not to switch into that pattern of conversation.

Dimitri picked up on Adrian's probable not-so-professional thoughts, and quickly changed the topic again. "Do you mind if we look around? Maybe see Toby's room?"

Keith and Isaiah glanced at each other before the latter nodded. "Of course. Follow me."

Toby's room was like everyone else's in the Sober House, small and an echo of a hotel room, save for the typical pleasures you'd get a Motel 6. Adrian pitied the poor souls as he and Dimitri trailed behind the other two into the victim's home, the detectives snapping on gloves just in case. "The room's just as he left it," Keith said. He strolled in and pocketed his hands while Isaiah lingered in the background, becoming a shadow.

"And when was the last time anyone saw Toby?" Adrian asked, piping up for the first time.

"Two nights ago, the night before he died. He was here at lights out at 11, but he wasn't here in the morning."

"Any idea where he might have gone?"

"No idea. Usually when people disappear, it's because they're using again, sad but true." Keith sighed. "In Toby's case, it would have been heroin."

"Hmm," Dimitri hummed under his breath. While it was true Toby was a recovering addict and the evidence around his death leaned toward a drug deal gone wrong, the pieces didn't quite fit together. There were too many variables, and nothing was clear-cut. He made his way around and opened the doors along the room; while the initial room was a combination of a living room and bedroom, there were 3 other nooks, including a bathroom, closet, and desk area. Adrian combed along the bedroom, either admiring the fish in a nearby aquarium or his reflection, while Dimitri tacked on, "Toby's father mentioned that Toby and Zach got into a fight as well not too long ago. Was it in one of your therapy sessions?"

"Yes, but unfortunately, we don't disclose what happens during those sessions."

Almost as soon as Keith said that, a new voice chimed in, crystal-clear and point-blank. "You don't have to. His brother killed him."

The two detectives stopped and turned their eyes to a small, female silhouette that had just appeared in the doorway. The girl was in her mid-20's and looked jaded, her dark clothes prompting an Avril Lavigne inspired look. Keith's demeanor morphed into exhaustion; even his glass eye glowed with disapproval.

"Gretchen," he warned.

"Toby's dead and Zach did it," she persisted.

He sighed. "You'll have to excuse her. Gretchen and Toby got pretty close during their time here." In the background, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

Adrian straightened, honing in on her and dismissing Keith's write-offs. Even through the slight haze of his hangover, he could read people well, an inherit trick of the trade. One thing was becoming strikingly obvious the more time they spent here: Keith was hiding something. And she wasn't afraid to expose it. "What did Toby and Zach fight about?"

"The usual. Money, drugs..." she trailed off and exhaled. "Zach told Toby he was tired of his crap. He said he was a disgrace to his family and he was better off dead. Guess he got what he wished for, huh?"

"That's some pretty personal stuff. You two were that close?"

"Yeah."

He smiled, not missing a beat. "You were dating."

It was a statement, not a fact. Gretchen rolled her tongue behind her teeth, weighing Adrian before correcting, "No. Toby broke it off a long time ago." Adrian and Dimitri shared a look at that. She didn't miss it. After a heartbeat longer, Gretchen shrugged off the doorway and strolled out, calling behind her, "I don't care if you guys suspect me. But you know what they say, family strikes first."

Keith looked like he was the one with the bad hangover in wake of Hurricane Gretchen. Nothing more was discovered at Toby's flat after that, and Dimitri and Adrian strolled back to their car under the afternoon sun. "Think we should add jilted ex-girlfriend to our list?" Dimitri asked.

"Nah," Adrian dismissed, popping open the passenger side door and sliding in. His hangover and headache was growing increasingly worse, not helped by the massive doses of sunlight. "Believe me, I know deadly ex-girlfriends. She's not the type."

"Yes, well, you would know murderous ex-girlfriends better than the rest of Southern California." It was the one thing he could take Adrian's word for. "Zach on the other hand did threaten to kill Toby."

"Things can get heated in those therapy sessions. People some times say things they don't mean."

"And some times they say exactly what they mean." Dimitri started up the car and drove back to headquarters, more puzzled than when he was before.

While there were numerous leads they had to track down, little progress was made aside from the Sober House that day. The rest of Thursday was spent on marital bickering and grating retorts adding tension to Adrian and Dimitri's already rocky relationship, most on account of Adrian's souring mood as the hours waned. The evidence room was still working and waiting for results for any other forensic evidence that could help them find the killer, including running Zach's busted cell phone. Zach himself remained MIA; the last mark on him was his dad's vouch that he'd went for a drive to relax. Apparently, he had decided to drive to Washington D.C., the Sahara desert, and back to NYC to clear his head.

For better or worse though, that stalemate vanished Friday morning.

**West Villa Hotel, LA, Friday, 6:58AM**

It was Dimitri's turn to be in a bad mood. He woke up with his ever-lasting headache that morning, the looming migraine throbbing in tempo with his cell phone's droning vibration. Running a hand through his chin-length locks and grunting, he managed to sit up on his forearm and glance at the screen. To his surprise, it was a call. The fact that it had woken him before his alarm and the usual glaring sunlight through his window indicated it was early. Really early. The nearby clock confirmed it, gloating 7AM.

He picked it up, but it wasn't until then that he registered the name and goofy picture of a certain brunette, former-GQ-model-gone-cop plastered on his welcoming screen. He toyed with the idea of ignoring it altogether. That didn't last long. After another steady minute of that nonstop drone, courtesy of the continuous bombardment of calls in compensation for not listening to his chirping voice, Dimitri snapped and answered, his voice still rough from sleep. "This better be good, Adrian," was his only greeting.

"Good morning to you too, USSR." Unlike his partner, Adrian seemed fully awake and happy, making a complete 180 flip from yesterday. Whether he was semi-drunk or fundamentally crazy, Dimitri could never be sure. "If they had captains over there in that darling Russia of yours, I'd call you Captain Sunshine for this occasion."

Dimitri pinched the bridge of his nose. Not two sentences later, and his irritation had already mounted ten fold. "They do have captain ranks, Adrian."

There was a pause. "I didn't pass history class, alright?"

"Color me surprised."

"Ha. Not bad for you, given the hour. Dimitri 3, Adrian 246. Now, for as much as I'd love to reminisce about high school and my academic record, I'm afraid we'll have to postpone our trip down memory lane. A silly thing called work is always getting in the way of our bonding time."

The alarms in Dimitri's head went off instantly. It was enough to drown out his complaining headache and annoyance. He sat up in bed, the white linen contorting and wrinkling at the abrupt movement. "What? Is there a break in the case?"

"Apparently," Adrian wrote off breezily. "Guess they found Zach. If you ask me, a young, on-the-lamb kid is hardly a reason to rouse me out of bed, but-"

"Where is he?" Dimitri demanded, already up and getting dressed, the phone tucked in the nook of his shoulder.

"Relax. I have the location and am on my way to pick you up now. I have to admit, this experience is making me remember why I never drive: LA traffic sucks more than parking." With that abrupt, flippant comment, Adrian hung up. It was just as well. Dimitri was struggling to change as it was. As he sat down to put on shoes, he glanced around by chance and slowly registered the aura enclosing the small space. It might have just been the fog of his dreams or the recent case bugging him, but weirdly enough, his room suddenly reminded him of Toby's. There was a stale, not-so-warm-or-homely feel to it, Dimitri choosing not to garnish it with personal items. That was the default of living in a hotel. You had to give some aspects of normal life up. Of course, there were little things, here and there. Boxing gloves on the counter. John Wayne DVDs on the shelf. A frame that laid face down on his nightstand, holding a picture he rarely looked at of a beautiful CIA agent sporting a wedding gown and him on the side.

Slipping on his shoes, he sat on his bed a moment more in quiet thought. He breathed in, closed his eyes, then exhaled. Preferring not to linger on it, he grabbed his duster quickly and headed out.

Adrian was waiting at the hotel's doorstep when Dimitri came down. The green-eyed half of the duo looked calm sitting behind the wheel, and his perfectly-styled hair showed his vanity outweighed his need for sleep. Dimitri slid into the passenger seat and Adrian momentarily tilted up his sunglasses. "I've made this point before, but you know it's not healthy to live in a hotel, right?" Adrian batted his eyelashes innocently in compensation for Dr. Dragomir's absence.

"Just drive." He began to sink back into his seat when he abruptly straightened again. "Wait, you're not under the influence are you?"

Adrian tsked. "Such lack of faith. I'll get us there in perfect condition, and any extra speed can be contributed to hastiness, nothing more, nothing less." Dimitri could hardly argue that. It _was _Adrian's car, after all. He hadn't missed the fact that Adrian had dodged his question, but if there was ever such a thing as a well-functioning drunk, Adrian would win the lifetime award.

And sure enough, they got there unscathed and 10 minutes ahead of schedule. The place he described was one of the tall, retro-style hotels in the older section of the city, among shops and other vendors. Police tape scattered the scene, including half a dozen patrol cars and a firetruck, but the suspect was no where in Dimitri's line of sight as he hopped out, spotting one PD member he recognized as Mikhail's partner instead. He jogged over to him, Adrian trailing behind. "Where's the kid?"

Surprising both of them, the police officer gestured upward and Dimitri craned his head back. There, on the ledge of the roof, was a barely visible silhouette framed by the hotel's unlit, gloating sign. Zach was on the brink. Guess they left that out of the report.

Adrian was right on top of it though, easily commenting, "Just what LA needs, another uplifting hood ornament."

Dimitri shot him a look as they both began walking up to the roof, bypassing security and trailing up the staircase. "I'll do the talking, you just... stand there and try not to let the wind ruin your hair," he said decisively. The last thing he needed was Adrian talking him off the ledge single-handedly with his helpful "advice".

Adrian grinned his trademark devil-may-care smile and lit up a cigarette. "Good idea, wouldn't want to stun him with my good looks and make him slip."

"Yeah. That's what I'm worried about."

The top of the roof was industrial-looking, with electrical boxes, short rails, and plumbing nozzles jutting along the sides. Pigeons cooed and flew around, nesting along the strange topography. Zach stood on the edge of the cement. He was young, with dark hair and a college kid's closet. On his right was a fire escape, the small hole in the pavement dark with an inner ladder barely peeping out the top. It would be useful in some situations. This one? Not so much. A few police officers and firemen lingered on the sidelines, not about to push the guy's buttons. The detectives, however, didn't hesitate as they strolled up, catching Zach's attention.

"D-Don't come any closer!" Zach warned, the boy's nerves clearly frayed. The wind swept through his hair, his eyes like one of a frightened deer caught in headlights.

"You're not going to jump," Adrian said simply, relaxing with hands in pockets.

"Excellent job, Adrian, dare him to jump off the roof."

He shrugged, nonchalant. "I'm just saying, if he was going to jump, he would have jumped by now."

"Don't listen to him," Dimitri cut in, "I'm Detective Belikov-"

"-and _I_ am Detective Ivashkov, now which one of us would you like to talk to?"

Zach shook his head, confused as to why they were introducing themselves like they were about to go get coffee and laugh about this. "I don't want to talk to either you." He paused. "I just... I want you to tell my father that I'm sorry." His toes dipped off the ledge, edging closer. Adrian couldn't help but note he was wearing Converes. At least the shoes wouldn't be a huge loss. He had half the mind to throw his lighter on them and start a bonfire on the roof before dragging the poor, unknowing boy to find real shoes. Like his. Not as posh as Louis Vuitton, but he gave Nordstrom points for effort.

"Sorry for what?" Dimitri inquired.

He shook his head, his already red eyes stinging with more tears. "My brother's dead because of me."

Well. That was quite a statement. The two detectives shared a look, and despite Dimitri's explicit wishes, Adrian took the spotlight long enough to stroll over and glance down. He shook his head. "Should have chosen a higher building, kid."

"Adrian-" Dimitri began to warn.

"I'm just saying, if it was a big exit he was going for, this isn't the place. There's a chance he could live. And man that would not be pretty for anyone. Seriously, picture it." He made sure they all did. Rolling his cigarette to the side, Adrian did a swan-diving hand motion accompanied by a falling plane sound. Dimitri couldn't make out of if the last sound was supposed to be a "splat" or a mini, nuclear explosion, but it got his point across.

Zach paled at Adrian, questioning the brunette's sanity as his liability stood two meters away from demise, before pointing at Dimitri. "Okay, I want to talk to him."

"I'm a little offended," he told Dimitri, stuffing his hands back in.

"You just demonstrated his cartoon death with hand puppets."

"His _almost _death," Adrian corrected. "You were not paying attention at all, were you?" Dimitri ushered him away without comment. Just as he was strolling off to leave the hard work to his partner, Adrian caught sight of the fire escape for the first time, the small mar in the pavement stimulating an idea in the detective's mind. The cogs in his head started churning, and he was glad Dimitri's back was turned. With the devilish glint growing in his emerald eyes and no spare energy to form a poker mask, he knew he probably looked like Grinch when he got an idea. The plan was dangerous. It was borderline insane.

Bottom line, it was brilliant.

Showing a surprising amount of stamina under the sun and nicotine of his current hit, Adrian jogged over to the opposite side of the roof, lightly touching the shoulder of the janitor. "I'm going to need your help." He caught sight of a fireman jogging over, Adrian figuring what the hell, and waving him over as well. "You too, come on." Neither protested, the three heading off while Dimitri came closer to Zach until they were less than a foot away.

"Listen, Zach," Dimitri reasoned, his voice soothing, "You can't jump. You can't do that to your father. I met him, he's a wonderful man, and he'll never get over that." Zach sucked in a short gasp of air, tears pricking at his eyes. He wiped them off with the sleeve of his hoodie. "Whatever you did, I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"We had a bond," Zach said, voice choked. "I should have trusted him."

Dimitri's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Who, your dad?"

"Toby." He angled back toward Dimitri, still semi-hysteric and in tears, but somehow logical. His explanations tumbled out like pleas, desperate and shaky. "Look, you have to understand. He said his dealer was going to kill him if he didn't give him the $5,000. I should have trusted him, but I can tell whenever he's lying, and he was lying. Every time he's ever borrowed money from me before it was for drugs but this time..." he trailed off, the guilt lucid and heartbreaking. "I should have trusted him. I should have just given him the money man." He inched a step back, further onto the ledge.

"Hey, hey, Zach-"

"I should have just given him the money and now he's dead, he's dead because of me."

"Zach, Zach-" The boy was completely on the ledge now, but he stopped, balancing there. Dimitri was on edge as well, mentally, but at the same tipping point as Zach. "I believe you. I believe you, alright? I know you didn't kill your brother. But if you jump, everyone's going to think you did."

That caught his attention. He was so wrapped up in his own self-deprecation and guilt, he'd missed that, the boy faltering and looking back at Dimitri. "W-What? Why?"

Dimitri took a breath. He decided it couldn't do any harm in disclosing the facts. In fact, it might just be enough to persuade him. "We found a Scout Knife at the scene. We think it was the murder weapon. Is it yours?"

"Y-Yeah- I mean, no. I mean, it was, but I gave it to Toby." Dimitri paused, and Zach's anxiety heightened, taking his silence the wrong way. "You have to believe me, I didn't kill him. I loved him."

"Then come down from there and help us find his killer." Zach froze up again, caught between the two sides, glancing between Dimitri and the edge, both whispering sweet things. "Come on, Zach. It's not worth it. Hasn't your dad had a bad enough week already?"

The boy choked again, coming undone like a shawl unwinding into threads. "And it's all my fault." He inched backwards again.

"Zach, no, it's not your fault." As Dimitri continued to try to reason with him, preparing to step forward, he noticed out of the corner of his eye the shadow in the fire escape move. Slowly, a bundle of messy, dark brown hair loomed above the swallowing darkness like a shark from _Jaws_, emerald eyes twinkling while Dimitri was negotiating their suicidal suspect down. In contrast to his zen technique, Adrian was braced with a limp fire house knotting around one link of his handcuffs, the other cuff in his hand and inching toward Zach's ankle. Dimitri saw through his plan in seconds. The hose was a pulley, probably wrapped around the lower fire escape, and the handcuffs were to attach Zach to it. It would keep him from falling. Even with the admirable utilization of physics, the plan was insanely, dangerously, and irrevocably idiotic.

Especially since Adrian's sudden appearance didn't only startle Dimitri. The pigeons around them suddenly noticed the lurking shadow and kicked up spontaneously in a burst of feathers, startling Zach. That was all it took. The boy stumbled and slipped, losing his footing off the concrete. Adrian barely locked the other end of the handcuff around his ankle before he went completely over, Dimitri rushing forward and yelling, "Grab him!"

Dimitri himself couldn't grab him fast enough. While he fell out of reach of both the detectives, the hose by some insane miracle did its job and locked in place, like a rock climber's rope. Dimitri scrambled to look over the side, eyes frantic. Zach was safe, though. He was suspended in the air, holstered by the rope around his ankle, and two firemen and a janitor were on the next level of the fire escape, easing him down back onto semi-solid ground.

Dimitri all but collapsed in relief, breathing out heavily, his heart in overtime. Adrian was propped up in the fire escape, his elbows on either side of the small hole. He puffed his hair out of his face, noting the wind had completely dismantled it, before nodding toward his partner. "Good job talking him down," he quipped.

**Dr. Dragomir's Office, LA, Friday, 9:04AM**

"You are an idiot."

"That's not quite how you say 'thank you', but don't worry, you'll get the hang of it."

Dimitri stopped outside of their therapy room and exhaled sharply, fingers wrapped around the doorknob. "Do you have any idea how stupid that was? You could have killed him."

"We were dealing with a suicidal suspect, it wasn't going to have a Snow White happy ending either way. Come on, lighten up. At least we have him, right?"

"You're an idiot," he repeated.

Adrian clucked his tongue in disappointment. "See, this is why we need therapy. Alberta may need to learn how to trust, but you need to learn to say thanks once in awhile. It wouldn't kill you. It might even be enough mental shock and sweet talking for me to forget about the homework questionnaire."

"You are not still stuck on that."

"The day you figure out where I got my name from, I'll let it go."

Adrian did the deed for him and pushed ahead, opening the door and sauntering through before Dimitri could stop him. Dimitri chanted Russian swears in his head, ready to voice a few of them as he followed after, warning, "Adrian-"

Before he could say anymore, he was only cut off by his partner, who had stopped dead in his tracks. It was so abrupt that Dimitri's train of thought was derailed, and he noticed what Adrian had. It was hard to miss. They stood center stage. While the rest of the couples were scattered in their seats like last time, Lissa Dragomir stood in the midst of the circle with two women. The one on the left was a petite woman with cropped blonde hair and a daring golden tattoo on her cheek, clashing with her conservative clothes and cross necklace. The tattoo peeked Adrian's interest, along with her bright, icterine eyes. Despite being obviously brazen, they were beautiful. It reminded him of his artistic days.

Dimitri wasn't focused on the blonde, though. His attention was fully devoted to the woman on the right. Her usually wild mane was tamed in a black ponytail, the Turkish-colored female still radiating her exotic glow even in the cramped, California office. Had it not been for that and her unchanging style, he might not have recognized her at all after 3 years. Lissa's eyes shifted to Adrian and Dimitri, and likewise, Sydney and Rose glanced over as well. No introductions were made. None needed to be. Rose's eyes flashed the second they met Dimitri's.

He remained glued to the floor, staring. "Rose?" he breathed.

"Dimitri?"

Silence fell. The mounting tension in the room was tangible, the two caught in their own gravitational pull and unspoken memories drug up from the sudden encounter. Lissa glanced between them. Luckily, that seriousness lasted all of three seconds. Adrian sliced through it by grinning like the Cheshire cat and cheerfully declaring, "Well _this_ is going to be delightful."

* * *

**Five months later: I feel like a father who abandoned his family because of a midlife crisis and 20-year old dream of being a rock star, only to crawl back now, hoping to sweep it all under the rug. Sorry. Truthfully. I'm terrible. **

**Like the show, this story has a lot of potential under its wing, but certain scenes are so bland in the story line, I'm desperate for some comedy relief in between. A round of applause for Richelle Mead, because I seriously don't know how she constantly deals out Adrian's priceless lines and humor. Hopefully though, despite this brazen inactivity, you all enjoyed this chapter. Many thanks across the board if you aren't ready to torch me and this story yet. I'll try to update as much as I can. No promises, but seriously, if you're not ready to throw me over a building alongside Zach, you're amazing. Smiley face.**


	5. Old Flames and Yellow Lamborghinis

Dimitri wasn't deterred by his partner's chirpy input, still staring at his ex-wife, starstruck. "I... what are you doing here?"

Lissa and Sydney glanced toward Rose, but she didn't notice, still locked with his gaze. She shifted, somewhat unnerved by it. That was the thing about Dimitri. Even though most took his larger presence as a gentle one, there was a hidden intensity to him, sweet and strong and awesome, like a Russian war God. And though she'd never admit it, she was still effected by it. Those appraising eyes made faint waves of electricity wash over her. It took every ounce of stubbornness and denial for her to keep her voice level as she wrote it off, saying, "You know the drill. Work. Weird settings. PD just happened to drag me here."

Dimitri frowned, confused what the police department had to do with a CIA agent, and was about to voice his bewilderment when Adrian cut him off. If he was confused, Adrian was the polar opposite. His grin was to his ears as he walked over and slung his arm around Rose, happily greeting, "I expected you on the FBI's _Most Wanted _list, not in this LA therapy session. What happened over the past week? Hans snapped?"

"Something like that," Rose said, reluctantly dragging her gaze away, used to Adrian's impulses.

"Huh. Not too surprised." Adrian remembered another piece of the puzzle and perked, looking at her blonde partner. "Ah, then you must be Sydney! And here I almost forgot. Rose talks about you here and there."

Sydney didn't even have time to be starstruck. That was completely Dimitri's territory. He looked at his lax partner, startled. "What are you... what? How do you know this? And why are you involved with the police department back home, Rose?"

"Don't be stingy," Adrian waved off. "She quit the CIA years ago. 3 years, to be exact, and joined up with PD. You don't check Facebook at all, do you?"

"How do you know this? And please don't say Facebook."

He shrugged. "Just because you divorced her doesn't mean I did." He turned back to Rose, easily chatting, "You get back into kickboxing? It's doing wonders for you."

While Dimitri stood there lamely in permanent shock, interest rippled throughout the 3 other couples. Adrian had brought up Rose in the last session; she was all but breaking news in their gossiping, knitting circle. Jill eye's shone like a school girl's while a sly grin made its way onto Mia's lips. "This is his ex, huh?" Mia murmured. "Wonder what happened."

"I guess the silent ones _are _the geniuses," Mason muttered as well, pinning Dimitri's intellect on his ability to snatch up an award like Rose. Ian seemed to be on board with the redhead's opinion, but didn't voice it under his wife's leer.

"Easy, everyone," Lissa jumped in. The head therapist sported a navy dress and pumps today, managing to look professional and the next model on a Milan runway simultaneously as she cleared her throat, taking charge of her session. "As you've probably realized, Sydney and Rose are another pair of homicide detectives coming in for-" she paused, grappling to find the right word- "teachings." From the note in her voice, she clearly hadn't been banking on one of her newest subjects to not only be her fiance's twin sister, but the ex-wife of another student.

Rose wasn't focused on that, though. Not yet, anyway. It was her turn to give Dimitri a strange look, clueless to his second divorce. "That reminds me, why are you two here? Weren't you the dynamic duo?"

To her knowledge, that's what they were and had always been- partners, and kick-ass ones at that. Sure, they were rarely on equal footing, but that also it meant they had all grounds covered. Unfortunately, the male pair didn't share her optimism. "The key part in that inquiry is the use of past tense," Adrian remarked. "Actually, I'm sure you could relate to quite a bit of the reasons that stature crumbled. Like remember how Dimitri would always come home and-"

"Adrian," Dimitri said placidly, cutting him off. While his voice was as phlegmatic as usual, there was a sharp edge to it, reminding the brunette of his limitations. It dawned on Adrian what he was warning him of: their earlier pact that Dimitri wouldn't speak of why they were forced into counseling, so long as he didn't mention his divorce with Rose. Right. That. While Adrian had been the one to propose the bargain, mostly for the sake of sweetening Dr. Dragomir's opinion of him in his favor, he was almost tempted to break it. Like most of his plans, he thought better of it at the last second. It was rare to squeeze a compromise out of Dimitri; it was best to milk it as long as he could.

That didn't mean he couldn't tease Dimitri for all it was worth at the same time, too. "You see?" he prompted Rose, shaking his head sadly. "This is where a lot of our problems manifest. I can't even finish a sentence. He is such a dominatrix."

"_Adrian_."

"Oh, I didn't realize that was a beckoning call. Coming!" he called back airily, flitting back over to his partner but careful to stay at arms length, lest he hold up to that improve nickname and choose to put extra force into his punch. With tensions simmering down to a dull roar, Sydney and Rose found seats in the circle, making up the fifth couple in the group while Lissa spear-headed the cluster. Both sets of detectives were distant from the other, and each other.

Lissa wasn't immune to the stiff aura in the room, but she was good at turning a blind eye to it. The platinum blonde leaned back in her chair, twirling her pen. "I suppose it's only to fair to kick off in the same fashion as last time. Rose, Sydney, let's start with you. How long have you two known each other?"

"Three years," Rose answered, not missing a heartbeat.

"How long have you been partners?"

There was a longer pause before Sydney stated matter-of-factly, "Two and a half."

"That's an awfully short bridge of time between the two," Lissa remarked.

Cheerful Adrian, unable to resist, almost immediately chimed in, "Life's short. Hell, it only took Rose 6 months to agree to USSR's proposal-"

Dimitri cut him off from saying any more. Even though he _said_ nothing, his glare bore into Adrian's skull and soul and drove home enough of a threat to shut him up- and though the zen master hardly had a short fuse, his leer promised contact with the Russian mafia and a sweet, slow death. Adrian was still all smiles, but his lips twitched and he paled under the intense gaze. Mia coughed to cover up a laugh and Jill had to bite back a giggle as Mason made some crack at the detectives being more bitterly married than the rest of them.

"You seem to be in a good mood today, Adrian," Lissa noted, turning her attention over to him.

"Oho, hard not to be with these developments."

"Well, since you're so chatty, would you like to talk about the couple's questionnaire assigned for homework?" she invited, opening the stage to him. Oh. _Right_, he thought to himself again. _That_. Their case had cut into his teasing time, and the slip of paper burning in his back pocket was empty, save for the first few questions he'd toyed with. _Pity_, he thought to himself. There were still some golden questions on their to test Dimitri's patience.

"I would love to, but it's otherwise in the works. Mind giving us an extension on that?"

"I don't mind, but haven't you learned anything about your partner?" she pried, looking vaguely disappointed that they hadn't made progress. It tugged at Adrian's inborn instincts to cater to women. Women would definitely be the death of him.

"No- well, yes, sort of. For the wealth of common knowledge, I'll say we met at a sharp-shooting competition 7 years ago. I was promoted from robbery to homicide and Dimitri was promoted from narcotics. I haven't learned much the past two days." He paused. "Well, except that he's as incapable of apologizing and saying 'thank you' as always."

"What makes you say that?"

"I performed a heroic rescue on a suspect dangling on the roof of a skyscraper this morning, with zero gratitude from Captain Sunshine," he explained.

When Lissa looked to Dimitri expectantly, he said stonily in his defense, "Adrian handcuffed a suicide victim around his ankle to keep him from falling. He wouldn't have slipped or fallen at all if Adrian hadn't startled everyone on the roof with that stunt. And it was a hotel, not a skyscraper."

"Semantics," he waved off.

"Dimitri, you should thank Adrian nonetheless. It's important to build that foundation of trust."

He paused, mulling it over. "I'll consider it," he said reluctantly.

"And what about you, Dimitri?" Lissa probed further "Have you learned anything new about Adrian?" Adrian gazed at his partner, mimicking his raise-an-eyebrow trick as he waited for the answer.

"Let's see we have the stupid roof stunt covered... well, he's dating another woman at work."

"I wouldn't really say dating-" Adrian started.

"Fine, he's seeing another woman at work. Better?"

"Another woman?" Lissa repeated, twirling her pen curiously. She glanced between the two. "I'm assuming this has to do with that boyish charm and defense mechanisms we discussed at the last session. How many women have you dated at your job?"

"It would be easier to count how many he _hasn't _dated," Dimitri said before his partner could put in a word to coyly win the crowd back over in his favor, knowing Adrian's usual tricks.

Lissa tilted her head, her halo of hair spilling over her left shoulder. "How many haven't you dated, then?"

"None," Dimitri answered again for Adrian.

"Well," Adrian said flimsily, trying to cover himself, "that's not entirely true. There's-" he fumbled, trying to think of someone before a name hit him. "There's Candy."

Dimitri barely batted an eyelash, unimpressed. "Candy is a 62-year old lunch lady with a husband and 4 kids."

"She's still female."

"Again- he's basically gotten to everyone in the police department."

Lissa shook her head lightly, trying to mask the smile on her lips. "Right. So to sum it up, a vague background from Adrian, a rooftop stunt to save a suspect, and a new woman in detective Ivashkov's sphere. Anything else you'd like to throw in?"

"No," Adrian started swiftly, not wanting to linger on his romantic life, lest it ruin his image in the eyes of Dr. Dragomir and Sydney. "I think that's about- Oh!" He exclaimed, thinking of something and smiling in spite of himself. "I can't believe I almost forgot. _And_ I just learned my lovely partner hasn't kept in touch with his darling ex-wife, though he totally should have," he added to the record, looking proud of himself for remembering and able to come up with something against Dimitri to counter his female agenda.

"Adrian," Dimitri, Rose, and Lissa scolded in harmony, none of them wanting to dip their toes in that pool.

They were the only ones, though. Despite denouncing his happy stance on their broken marriage, the others in the group seemed curious at the break-up, glancing between each other before someone finally took the plunge. "What happened between you two, anyway?" Mia asked, leaning forward in her chair, eyes flickering between Rose and her ex-husband.

"Mia," Lissa started, warning her.

"What? Everyone's thinking it, I'm just saying it." Eddie sighed lightly beside her.

"Oh, can I tackle this question?" Adrian piped in, perking.

"You may not, Adrian," the lead therapist instructed.

"Did you cheat on her?" Jill asked innocently.

"What? No," Dimitri stated, taken aback, things taking their own bizarre twist.

"Excuse me, maybe _she _cheated on _him,_" Mason put in, playing devil's advocate.

The females in the room shared a look. "Would you cheat on him?" Mia muttered to Stanton who rolled her tongue behind her teeth, glancing at Dimitri out of her peripheral and smiling slightly, not denying it.

"There was no cheating," Rose and Dimitri said in unison, trying to get things back on track.

"So what did happen?"

"Oh, teacher, can I answer?" Adrian asked.

"_No_," the divorcees exclaimed, once more in sync.

"Well then, at the very least, who broke up with who?" Mia inquired. It was enough of a reasonable question to shut the others up. Dimitri and Rose shared a look. The initial exasperation from the line of questioning soon melted, and the two accidentally got caught in their gravitational pull again, nostalgia tugging the two together. Their gazes were level and locked. It seemed like the world had momentarily stopped and the other couples held a collective breath. A few suspended moments passed; Dimitri was the one to finally look away, sparking an electric current throughout the room, rippling between the couples.

Jill looked up at her husband, eyes wide like a baby deer's. "He broke it off?" she mouthed. Mason shrugged, clearly just as surprised.

Lissa watched the affair with steady, jade eyes before clearing her throat. "I believe that's enough for this kind of line up for today."

"It is kind of a touchy subject with them," Adrian murmured to Mia beside them, earning another unhappy look from Dimitri who hadn't forgotten his eagerness to spill every coded detail 90 seconds ago.

It was Mason's turn to be skeptical, but not necessarily about the divorce. "How do you know so much about Dimitri and Rose anyway, Adrian, if the divorce is as personal as it is?" It was a valid question, especially since Sydney, the other spectator, seemed clueless of the personal reasons behind their falling out.

He shrugged lightly, seeing nothing wrong with it. "Well, he's my partner, and like I said, just because Dimitri divorced doesn't make her not my friend."

"Well, that's not exactly true," Stanton intervened. "Everyone knows you have to choose sides in a break up. That's just... common knowledge."

"Really?"

"Yes," the three couples answered.

"Huh," Adrian remarked, pondering that new guideline. He tapped his foot, debating while the rest waited and golden California sunlight spilled into the room. Then, he smiled. "Alright, I choose Rose."

As he breezily went back to glancing over at the questionnaire sheet, Dimitri pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to keep his cool and the rest of the group fell back into gossip, much to the mirroring exhaustion of the head therapist. For better or worse, Dimitri was deterred from another personal interrogation by his phone buzzing, cutting into another session. His distaste over therapy and this therapy session sobered, snapping into detective mode and grabbing his duster from the back of his chair as he read over the text. "It's tech," he informed his partner. "They got the numbers off Toby's busted cell phone."

"Duty calls once more," Adrian said, though he looked a little sad that he couldn't bask in the fruits that came with teasing Dimitri and being the universal intel on their divorce.

Lissa wasn't pleased either that they were bailing another session early, but was understanding. It was important they complete therapy, but as was solving a homicide plaguing the city streets. "Just as long as it's work related, okay? And don't forget your questionnaire sheet," she called again, just like last time. "I mean it this time!"

"We'll remember, doc!" Adrian chimed back, flashing a reassuring smile at her and winking at Rose and Sydney before ducking out with his coworker who was already out the door. Lissa looked torn between amusement and weariness, a common reaction from seeing the pair at their prime, recovering from their mini hurricane. Rose, on the other hand, gazed after them with a whole other perspective.

Sydney glanced at her partner through the corner of her eye as the door swung closed behind them. Her analytical skills were at work and had picked up on an oddity almost instantly, gleaming her curiosity. True, Belikov was impressive in stature and looks- even Sydney could admit to that- but that wasn't what was distracting Rose. While the ex-CIA agent was typically pretty good at masking her emotions, a trick of the trade Sydney was beginning to think stemmed from her ex-husband, for a few moments, she was an open book. Nostalgia played across Rose's face. Wistfulness. But mixed in with that admiration was raw hurt and regret that made a coal-hot iron settle in the pit of Sydney's gut.

Sydney set her mouth in a thin line and diverted her attention. Yes, she was still mad as could be at her partner- but at the same time, she thought if she looked at Rose any longer and if that unparalleled, abstract hurt continued to strike a chord in her, that anger would ebb away like an ocean tide. She didn't know why. But she knew she couldn't risk that yet.

**PD Headquarters, LA, Friday, 10:56AM**

"Has Zach said anything else?" Adrian asked. With the fun of therapy being put on the back burner, he was at the beck and call of work, homicides, and the death of a judge's son, waltzing behind Dimitri.

"Not according to Alberta," Dimitri replied as the pair trailed into headquarters, the door swinging behind them and security ushering them through without a word. He swept through mutely. Unlike Adrian, he was more than happy to escape therapy. His head was still spinning and his knuckles were still white from gripping the steering wheel with a dead-iron grip, dizzy with a forgotten love and lurching memories. Despite his impassive bravado, seeing Rose was no easy thing. That's where half his mind lingered: on her. _Rose, Rose, Rose. _She always had a strong impact that blindsided him and made him weak at the knees. Their divorce hadn't been vicious or a battle of tooth-and-nail, but it was bittersweet and remembering it always left a sour aftertaste. Work was probably the only thing that could momentarily eclipse her sun and slap him back into reality. He cleared his throat, coming back down to Earth and relaying, "Zach's story is matching up with everyone else's. He gave Toby the Scout Knife as a gift for graduating high school years ago. The last time Zach saw his brother was at a therapy session, where they got into a big fight, just like Gretchen and his dad said. The fight was about the 5K he wanted to borrow, claiming it was to get his drug dealer off his back. It adds up to everything we know, but it doesn't really get us anywhere; not until we figure out who that supposed drug dealer is, anyway."

Adrian brooded, absorbing the full aspects of their case before smiling. "Well, that's better than nothing. And who do we have to thank for saving our male damsel in distress, hm?"

"Be quiet."

"Oh come on, just say it. I did good out there this morning. Just say 'I was wrong, Adrian is king and saved our suspect from the clutches of evil and self-depression, I'm sorry'. It's a very simple phrase."

Dimitri scoffed at the ludicrous idea, especially since Adrian was the human embodiment of depression once in awhile, courtesy of his bipolar swings. "I'm not going to apologize. What you did was still stupid and wrong." Suicidal suspect or no, sneaking up on Zach by way of a fire escape while armed with a handcuff and firehouse contraption peaked on Dimitri's list of Adrian's-Worst-Ideas.

Adrian sighed in dismay, giving his partner pitiful doe eyes as they made their way to their desks. Adrian plopped down and kicked his feet up on his unruly desk, setting aside the questionnaire in his jacket pocket, while Dimitri sat normally, aligning his already picture-perfect folders and shuffling them aside. It was a perfect simile of their so-called friendship and conflicting personalities. The former tipped back in his chair, arching his neck back to make sure his partner was fully aware of the sad visage he was giving him. If his hair wasn't styled messily enough before, it certainly was now. "Do you even know you're pathologically incapable of apologizing?" Adrian inquired.

"Do you know you have repressed childhood trauma from being named after a girl?"

His lips twitched upward. "Wow. You just made that one up."

"No, unlike you, I don't make things up, Mr. I-Won-the-Sharp-Shooting-Competition."

"I did win."

"There's a plaque in my desk drawer that begs to disagree."

"I'm shocked that hasn't been found as your murder weapon, either at the hands of your ex-wife or your homicide partner."

Before Dimitri could find a retort for that, a silhouette appeared and a clear voice jumped in, "Wow. You two sound like my parents." Adrian straightened and Dimitri glanced up to find a pretty brunette with glasses hovering between their desks. Judging from her lab coat and Adrian's new-found, growing grin, Dimitri could guess this was Tamara, the new medical examiner and the latest victim of Adrian Ivashkov's so-called allure. Sure enough, Adrian adopted a sweet, chiming tone as he greeted her, and Tamara's eyes sparkled before they flickered to the paper on his desk. A bemused look crossed her face. "That doesn't look like homicide paperwork or Sudoku."

Adrian's gaze shifted to the crumpled sheet littering his work station. "Ah, that's the couples questionnaire for therapy." He read over it briefly again while Dimitri rolled his eyes and turned around in his chair. "Let's see, the next question is two adjectives to describe your partner. I was having trouble until just now. What do you think of 'bag' and 'douche'?" he asked, batting his eyes innocently.

"Neither of those words are adjectives," Dimitri said flatly, jotting on a piece of paper and glancing over one of their older cases, distracting himself from the creeping cobwebs of a suburban home and his former wife.

Tamara glanced between the two detectives before shaking her head. "I don't get it. Alberta said you guys used to get along so well together. What happened?"

"We got to know each other," Dimitri said.

Adrian glanced at his partner's back, green eyes simmering slightly. His double-personality was beginning to rear its ugly head and his voice was thicker than intended as he replied, "You don't know anything about me." Dimitri's pen stopped. He turned around to glance at him, but Adrian had already calmed down and forced his natural charm to gloss over his ugly, quiet outburst, eyes on Tamara. "That's why we have to do the couple's questionnaire."

"Sounds charming," she commented, not about to open that Pandora's Box. "I better tell you the reason I interrupted your therapy, then. Here." Dimitri hadn't even noticed the paper in her hand until she gave it to him, Dimitri taking it without protest and scanning over the list of numbers. "Tech told me to give you this. It's the number history from your victim's phone."

Several of the numbers were highlighted, including the last one on record. "The last number he called was at 3:04AM, right before he was killed," Dimitri murmured.

"I tried dialing it, it's disconnected," Tamara said, sitting on the edge of Adrian's desk. "The guy who it used to belong to packed up and moved to Ohio 5 months ago from Oregon, so that's a dead end."

Dimitri hummed under his breath at that and Adrian took his turn glancing over the numbers. Alongside the 10 digits were the cities that each area code belonged to, and one number in particular kept popping up close to home. Adrian pointed at it and glanced up at Tamara. "What's this number? Toby called in multiple times."

She looked at it. "That one belongs to a Dominic Santori."

"Dominic... Dominic Santori," Adrian muttered under his breath before a light bulb went off. "I remember him. Julia used to talk about him all the time."

With that small remark, out of the blue, Tamara's attitude changed and she gave Adrian a look. "Julia? You mean Julia from narcotics?" Adrian's smile froze, realizing he'd slipped. Big time. She cleared her throat, jaw clenched as she leaned closer, whispering, "Is there anyone here you haven't dated?"

There was a low chuckling and both Adrian and Tamara looked over to see Dimitri as the source. Noticing their gazes, he cleared his throat in return and turned back to his paperwork. "Sorry. Funny testimony." Adrian made a face at his partner's back and tried giving his latest squeeze an award-winning smile in compensation, one that Tamara was growing more and more immune to, glaring in response.

It took a few minutes, but between void assurances and sweet nothings, Adrian was able to wiggle himself off the hook from Tamara and dance after his partner who was already down the hall, on his way to narcotics. While his 6'7" height and proportional legs made it a bitch to catch up, he eventually did, falling in step with Dimitri. "Was the laughter really necessary?"

"I told you I don't like when you date women at work. It's your fault you've gotten to all of them regardless."

"Just because you've stayed platonic after your divorce doesn't mean you need to spoil my fun and pure intentions."

"The last thing I would describe you as is 'pure'," he said dryly. The two pushed ahead.

It was true, Adrian had sampled most of the women at work, but he still had a soft spot for Julia. Blondes had always been part of his Achilles's heel. And Julia Cavendish, a blue-eyed, Barbie doll detective, was the epitome of that type. On the job, she sacrificed her love for fashion to downgrade into a black tee and, God forbid, khaki pants. When Adrian and Dimitri arrived in her training station, she was sporting this style along with a ponytail, petting one of the German Shepards they used in the field and cooing to him, "Good boy, Trey." Scattered around the area were various bins and bags, and in her hands was a bag of small, white powder. Cocaine. Judging from the set-up, Trey had probably just sniffed out the drug; however, with the arrival of the two detectives, his ears perked and he picked up a new scent, rushing out of Julia's arms to race to Adrian. Adrian brightened at the sight of him and knelt down, greeting him warmly and ruffling his fur. While he truly wasn't a huge fan of animals, they had bonded during his fleeting romance with the female detective. Meanwhile, Dimitri and Julia just looked jaded at the exchange, the latter straightening and putting her hands on her hips. "I still can't fathom why he likes you so much," she said.

"He's a dog," Dimitri wrote off. "He knows his own kind."

"Har har."

Julia smirked and glanced up at Dimitri. "What are you two doing sniffing around narcotics for, anyway? Homicide not keeping you busy enough?"

"We need a little help," Adrian explained before looking back at Trey and rustling behind his ears, putting on his own cooing voice. "Isn't that right? We need a little help." He managed to pet him and rile him up at the same time, Trey barking happily. Julia rolled her eyes, but when Dimitri mentioned Dominic, she managed to grow semi-serious and beckoned them back to the nearby computer. Trey followed after Adrian lovingly, Adrian following his respective keepers.

"Dominic Santori, huh?" She sat and kicked back, scrolling through his records. Dimitri and Adrian hovered over her shoulders. "Well, I'm not sure why you two are so interested in his case, but he's definitely on our radar. He owns a car dealership out in Glendale. We believe he's smuggling heroine into the country through his cars but the dogs have never been able to pick up the scent."

"Maybe Toby was telling the truth about owing money to a drug dealer after all," Dimitri murmured.

"What kind of cars does Santori sell?" Adrian asked.

"High-end ones. Buggatis, Lamborghinis..."

"Hmm," Adrian mused before glancing up at his partner, emerald eyes getting a devilish glint. "You know, I've always wanted to test drive a Lamborghini."

"And let me guess, you've also been meaning to take a scenic route to Glendale?"

"I've toyed around with the idea," he said. He rolled his shoulders back and brightened, another idea dawning on him. Dimitri could almost see the cartoon light bulb going off. "Hey, you know what? We should pick up Sage and Hathaway while we're at it. They must be dying of boredom and Sage seems perfect for the job."

"Adrian, don't you dare," Dimitri warned, but Adrian was already out the door, the two abandoning Trey and Julia as the former went after Adrian. Trey looked far more crestfallen than the blonde at their leaving. This time, instead of dancing away from Tamara, Adrian all but tap-danced out of Dimitri's range while dialing Rose's number. He had to pitch the idea to the two beauts before Dimitri had the chance to either break his phone or, the classier option, break one of Adrian's arm.

_Such a dominatrix, _Adrian thought to himself. _I almost miss Captain Sunshine._

**West Villa Starbucks, LA, Friday, 12:32PM**

"You're not going with them?"

The cafe was quiet, save for the quiet drone of patrons and gurgling coffee machines. Rose sighed under her breath, stirring her latte and dumping more sugar into it. Lissa watched her calmly. While Rose sat across from her, slouched under an invisible pressure and looking terribly interested in her coffee-to-sugar ratio, the blonde sat elegantly in her seat, a frame of a would-be queen in another life. Lissa wasn't immune to the stares she received between her silky, white-blonde mane and natural poise. In her mind though, Rose was the prettier of the two in many aspects. The brunette had caramel skin and radiated an aura of confidence that couldn't be paralleled. "No," Rose finally said. "I appreciate Adrian's invite, but the whole car dealership thing is more of Sydney's scene than mine."

Lissa paused. She couldn't help but examine Rose, her psychology major trumping her inherent wish to bond with her soon-to-be sister-in-law. Signs of stress were highlighted under the surface between small forehead creases and her obsession with minute detail, such as her latte. Plus, she'd used more than 75% of the sugar packets at the table, and the wrappers of Sweet n' Low scattered around her looked like a mass, sweetening genocide had taken place. "You're not very excited to be in LA at all, are you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Forehead creases," she said factually. While she typically liked to sugar-coat things, it was hard to put a light spin on observational learning. "And the, um, sugar." She nodded to the wrappers. Even if she couldn't put a sweet coating on things, there had to be enough caffeine and sugar in her drink to cause spontaneous tooth decay. "Sugar is usually used as a stress-relief."

"You're analyzing me, huh?"

"Sorry. Default of the trade."

Rose sighed and gave up on her sugar crusade. Truthfully, she wasn't a huge fan of coffee, but she knew she had passed sweetening the drink 6 packets ago. Now it was all but a Slurpee. "No," she answered Lissa. "I'm really not happy to be here, but I don't have much of a choice in the matter. Unlike your male duo, Sydney and I are on temporary leave until we square away our differences. Hans booked us hotels and everything."

"Sounds like a good opportunity to unwind from your job."

"Not exactly how I picture a Caribbean vacation," Rose said.

Lissa smiled, and it soon lapsed into a break from talking, inviting back in the mindless drone of cappuccino machines and gossiping journalists. Both toyed with their drinks, Rose opting to simply stir hers more. The two relaxed. Just being comfortable with each was nice, in its own respect- and it _was_ nice, while it lasted. Lissa blended into that quietness for a few moments, careful how she framed her words before breaking the not-so-literal sugar bowl and saying gently, "Christian already told me about what happened between you and Sydney, you know." Rose's eyes flickered to the ring on Lissa's finger before directing her gaze out the window, glancing at the foot traffic and silently mulling. She should have expected that. Of course Christian would tell her. Twin brother or no, he was still engaged to Lissa, and the fairytale couple were so close and nauseatingly sweet, Rose always had the urge to brush her teeth after seeing them together. Granted, Rose had only told Christian so much: one, that Sydney had pointed a gun at her, and two, Sydney had done it to stop her from murdering a serial killer. The details were fuzzy, but those two facts alone packed enough of a punch. Lissa could probably fill in the pieces from there.

Her eyelids felt heavy gazing out the window. Her thoughts were loud. Too loud for her to ignore. _'I wasn't going to kill him!' _Her earlier words rang through her head, ricocheting against her eardrums. That's what she had screamed at Sydney and Hans. While it hadn't convinced her partner, at the same time, it had spun a poisonous web in her subconscious, intertwining with cobwebs from her past. For a moment, Rose forgot where she was, her eyes glazing over. Lounging in a mundane, commonplace Starbucks, her mind was elsewhere, a CIA agent in black hovering over a terrified 15-year old girl, and a glock between them while a serial killer lurked behind her. Lissa watched quietly, saying nothing. Even if it felt like an eon in Rose's mind, the moment was short and hard to miss, the brunette's serious sobering as she glanced back, using her fail-safe, dry humor on her therapist. "I'm sure your new career in bettering police partnerships must be all kinds of fun, huh?"

"It's an interesting change of pace, to say the least. You and Sydney aren't half the handful Dimitri and Adrian are. Hopefully they'll reconcile soon with some guidance, and perhaps you and Dimitri will also get some closure once that happens."

"Weren't you trying to solve Sydney and I's divorce?"

Lissa smiled. "I'd rather improve all of your relationships." She sampled her chai tea, the sunlight bringing out the bright jade in her eyes. Rose really had to commend her brother for snatching Lissa up as a fiance. Dr. Dragomir was a career away from being on LA billboards, and for a guy whose dark humor could clear a court room, that was definitely saying something. "I didn't know you were married previously, or that Dimitri was your husband. I can see how that transpired, though."

Rose was thrown off guard at that. Most people had to grab a magnifying glass just to speculate how they could be in the same room as each other without driving each other up the wall. "Seriously?"

"Well, you know what they say. Opposites attract."

"Not always," Rose murmured. She sunk back into her seat at the thought. Ugh. She was really hoping to avoid this, even though she knew that was all but impossible. Mia and the others had all but sealed that deal with their curiosity. _Thanks a lot, guys._

"What happened?" Lissa asked lightly, trying not to push too much.

"Work," she said quietly. "Your whole peaceful-interrogation sessions may be a result of your job rubbing off on you, but my old job didn't grant me such lovely side-effects. You could say a CIA agent and a homicide detective weren't really a match made in heaven to begin with."

"You didn't like his job?"

"No. He didn't like mine."

"But you're no longer in the CIA," Lissa pointed out.

"Yeah," Rose said. "I know."

Lissa sipped her tea, saying little, restraining herself. She knew this wasn't easy for her to talk about, so she wouldn't push it. She wouldn't slip back into her therapist drive and inform Rose of her observations and feelings. And she certainly wouldn't say how terribly sad Rose looked in that fleeting moment she stared out the crystalline window.

**Santori Car Dealership, Glendale, Friday, 1:47PM**

Sydney Sage was in heaven. Not literal heaven, with angels singing in a gospel and God giving her bonus points for the cross around her neck, but she was in a car dealership with some of the world's most innovative 4-wheeled masterpieces ever made, so it was a pretty close tie. She stared in awe at a yellow Lamborghini on display, dreamily stroking the exterior. The paint job was flawless. _It _was flawless. She could have spent days fawning over this sole car, let alone the rest of the shop. The only thing that partially shattered her love fest was the dumb impersonations of squealing tires and a revving engine bombarding her eardrums. She glanced at the source of the noise wryly. Adrian was in the driver's seat of the Lamborghini, unable to take it out for a tailspin, but creating his own fun nonetheless but mimicking the motions and supplying the car noises.

Dimitri watched him with a blank face from the opposite side as well, his hands tucked in his pockets. Finally, he shook his head and looked away. "You are an idiot."

The idiotic smile lacing his lips seemed to vouch for that, but before he could come up with a clever pun involving Russians being just as out of league with expensive cars as they were with thwarting revolutions, he was distracted by another pearly beaut. Three mechanics were pushing in a sleek, black vehicle that looked like it was transported straight out of Bruce Wayne's garage and bank account. His starry-eyed gaze followed after it and he whistled under his breath, leaning out of the open window to peak at it while the mechanics brushed off their hands and walked off. Adrian looked up at Dimitri expectantly. "How much is that one?"

"750K," he informed his partner.

Adrian's smile faltered. He looked at Dimitri, then at the car, then back at him. The corner of Dimitri's lips twitched. Adrian looked like a toddler staring at the toy of his dreams, only for his parents to shoot him down and drag him out of the store, empty-handed. "You're bluffing."

"I'm not."

"With that kind of money, I could buy 3 Camaros and a house," he remarked.

"No way," Sydney breathed. Her inhibitions had flown out the window and she walked over to the car, almost afraid to touch it. If this was heaven, she would have died and ascended again. "This is worth every cent. Don't you know what this is?"

Dimitri arched an eyebrow. "A car?"

"More than just a car. This is a Lamborghini Merciolado, 670 horsepower, custom-made engine, only 4,000 of these produced."

"And most importantly, it's pretty," Adrian preened, the mechanic facts going over his head, even when boiled-down.

"She is a beauty, isn't she?" a new voice jumped in. The trio glanced over to see a thin, average-looking man in a suit striding towards them. It was obvious by the way he carried himself that he was a business man, though, flashing an award-winning smile to lure them in. Adrian noted that his smirk and glossy hair was almost on par with his style and confidence. He grinned in response, loving a challenge. Perfect. "Domonic Santori," he introduced, shaking Dimitri's hand. "I've been waiting for this baby to come in for 6 months."

"I've been waiting all my life," Adrian piped in, taking the lead and getting out of the yellow Lamborghini to walk over to the new apple of his eye. He tried to match Sydney's fervor and adoration, patting the hood lovingly. Sydney made a face at that. Clearly, he hadn't pulled it off flawlessly. It was enough to win over the guy trying to sell the car, though. "Can I take it out for a test drive?"

"I'd love to hook you up, but she's not street legal yet. We have to change out the smog system first. It's federal law."

"Right," Dimitri said thickly. "Well, we wouldn't want to drive it with an illegal smog system, right?"

Adrian adopted his Cheshire grin. "Right, and we wouldn't want him to break any laws." Dimitri did a fake chuckle. Dominic glanced between the two, eyes beginning to slink, taking on a suspicious edge as he began to get the hint they weren't here to window shop. Sure enough, Adrian didn't disappoint, gesturing with open hands to the car while using his boyish charm. "So how much is the car without all the drugs stuffed in it?" he probed angelically. Dimitri looked at Domonic, waiting calmly for the answer.

Domonic's seller's attitude sobered completely. His gaze flickering between the three. "Alright, who are you guys?"

"Homicide," Adrian introduced, looping around the opposite side in a lazy stroll while Dimitri took it upon himself to flash the badge on his belt. "We want to ask you a few questions about Toby Whitaker."

Dominic didn't bat an eyelash. "Never heard of him."

Adrian gave him a pointed look before sharing an exasperated glance with Dimitri, this time gesturing at Domonic. "Why do they always say that?"

"I don't know," Dimitri sighed.

"So why did he call you seven times the week before he was murdered?" Adrian pushed.

Domonic wasn't one that played well in the sandbox, however. He shook his head, producing his cell phone from his back pocket and answering simply, "I'm calling my lawyer."

Dimitri ran a hand over his face, murmuring to his partner, "See what you did, now he's going to lawyer up."

"Yeah, but your plan wasn't working."

"I didn't even have a plan."

"Exactly," Adrian said before pitching his voice louder, directed at Dominic. "Did Toby owe you money?" Domonic was tapping in a number, barely glancing up to give them a coy smile, saying nothing. "Wise guy," Adrian muttered before reaching towards his back pocket, only to bring out a gun to the scene, spicing up the stage.

"Adrian, what did I tell you about using your gun for interrogations?"

"Relax. I'll play nicely."

Sydney stuck to the sidelines cautiously, keeping an eye on the pair. Their brand of law was a new and accustomed taste- she had a feeling it would take half a decade to get used to it. Just seeing the gun unnerved her, let alone what he was planning to do with it. "What's he doing?"

"His job," Dimitri said before pausing. "Sort of."

While Sydney didn't look any more reassured, her gold eyes becoming saucers as she glanced back at Adrian, severely doubting his mental stability, Dominic just looked amused. He nodded to the gun. "What are you going to do? Shoot me?"

Adrian shrugged haplessly, relaxed. "Well, why not? I am a cop, right?" He smiled. "I have a gun, I shoot bad guys, that's just kind of what I do."

"You wouldn't be that stupid."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Dimitri warned. "He does stupid things all the time. It would be best to answer his questions."

"I'm not answering anything," Dominic replied. He got his lawyer on the phone. "Hey, Larry, it's me. Listen, there are a couple cops down here, and you'll never believe what they're trying to pull."

Adrian paused, weighing him seriously before shaking his head in mock defeat. "Do you see this? Always has to be done the hard way."

"I don't see any of this," Dimitri answered, turning his cheek to this whole ordeal.

Adrian honed in on Sage, knowing her love and knowledge of cars were bounds ahead of his. And lucky for them, it was about to pay off. "Is the smoke system in the front or back?" he asked.

Her eyebrows knitted together. "The back. Why?"

He waltzed back to the rear of the car, knowing full well it cost 15 years worth of salary, along with half his retirement fund. It took a lot more than that to stop Adrian Ivashkov, though. He cleared his throat and rolled his neck, loosening his arms before repositioning his pistol. Sydney watched, bewildered and not able to fully wrap her head around what he was threatening to do. Dimitri wasn't even surprised. He exhaled sharply under his breath while Adrian played around with his aim, pursing his lips. "Around here?" he asked the pair.

"A little more to the right," Dimitri reluctantly directed. "Lower, too."

Adrian shifted his target accordingly. "Here?"

"Yeah."

"Wonderful. Hey, Dominic," he called, catching the car dealer's attention. "I'm going to give you one more chance. Did you threaten to kill Toby Whitaker?"

Dominic was far from playing along though, calling back, "My lawyer wants your badge numbers."

Adrian contemplated it before nodding. "Alright, suit yourself. Tell him it's 9-1-1."

Aimed at the car's exhaust system, he pulled the trigger, a loud bang echoing through the room. Dimitri had to catch Sydney by her shoulders as her step faulted, afraid the blonde might collapse, while Domonic's jaw unhinged, gaping wordlessly. His phone clattered out of his hands. Adrian blew the exhaust from the barrel of his pistol, tucking it in the back of his belt again and giving the two startled witnesses enough time to partially recover, Sydney and Domonic exclaiming at the same time, "Are you _insane_?"

"As insane as geniuses come."

Dimitri stood on the sidelines, shaking his head in abject disbelief, while Adrian carefreely squatted down, inspecting his handiwork. The bullet had pierced the pipe system perfectly and white powder was spraying on to the ground, heroine spilling out of the funnel effortlessly. His grin was feverish. "She sprung a leak," he called while he dug around in his pockets, only to produce a small evidence bag he kept close to his liquor canister, collecting some of the sample.

Scrambling to gather his phone which was blaring with muffled demands of what just happened, Dominic shouted into the speaker, "No, Larry, the crazy cop didn't shoot me, he shot my car!" While Adrian pocketed the illegal substance, Domonic scrambled to his knees, watching as his second paycheck fell into the detective's hands. Disbelief and second-guessing splayed across his face. "Ugh. I'll call you back, Larry."

As both straightened, Dominic played on a new set of cards, his voice tighter and more desperate than before as he clicked off the phone. "Look, I will not press charges if you leave. Now."

Adrian's emerald gaze was still proudly on the pouched heroine, not heeding to his warnings or the laws at hand. While Dimitri had been in the dark of this entire plan, it was too late to protest, and he knew he'd dug his own grave the moment he instructed Adrian on where the smog system was. It was far too late to stop him. But despite his blatant idiocy, he had done something in their favor: he'd gotten dirt against Domonic. The tables were turned. All he could do now was play along. "We can't do that," Dimitri told him "This car is now evidence. I'm afraid we'll have to impound it."

"I know my rights," he insisted. "That's illegal search and seizure."

"Doesn't matter," he put in abruptly. "My partner just violated penal codes 416, 417, and 494, not to mention illegal display and discharge of a firearm without cause. Add in vandalism, and this car and its contents are all evidence. Don't worry though. I'll make sure this moron is held up on every accountability for his actions. We are police officers, after all." Adrian continued playacting and sheepishly bowed his head, mouthing, "he's serious" while Dimitri got out his own phone, dialing a faux number as a scare tactic and saying, "Excuse me." He pocketed his hand while the phone rang. Even if it was a disconnected number he was dialing, from his seriousness and facade, he could have been ringing up the DA or the president to clue them in of Adrian's actions, as well as Domonic's drug scheme.

Domonic gaped, fumbling to come up with something as his world crumbled down around him. "Alright, alright, wait!" he finally cried. "Look, I will tell you everything about Toby if we can... if we can forget all of this, huh?" He nodded to the bag of heroine.

Adrian and Dimitri shared a long, debating look before the latter snapped his cell shut. Both turned to face him dead-on, the tall detectives as imposing as NFL players gone blue-blood while Adrian pushed, "Let's hear it."

Domonic inhaled through his nose, trying to recompose himself. "First of all, I had nothing to do with Toby's murder, okay? I wasn't even in town."

"Why was he calling you then?"

"He needed money. 5K."

Adrian frowned, bemused. "He asked you for 5K?" Domonic nodded. Adrian's frown deepened. Okay. That definitely threw a wrench in this plot. Zach claimed that Toby had begged him for 5K to get his drug dealer off his back; yet here was his dealer, another victim of the same plead with no charges against Toby. "Did Toby say what he needed the money for?"

"No, but he sounded pretty desperate. He finally came by here in person to request the money after God knows how many calls. He kept looking over his shoulder at the car he rolled up in. There was someone inside, waiting for him. I couldn't see who. The windows were tinted."

"What kind of car was it?" Dimitri asked.

"69 Chevelle SS with red flames."

"That's a nice car," Sydney breathed in the background.

"That is a nice car," Adrian commented. He glanced back at Domonic. "Did you give him the money?"

He snorted. "What do you think? Of course I did. I thought it would be good to have the son of a federal judge in my back pocket. Besides, Toby said he would work if off washing cars."

"And where were you two nights?"

"A car show in Phoenix. I didn't get back until this morning. You can call the airlines to confirm it."

"We will."

With that brief, write-off, they closed their questioning session. Sensing this, Domonic cleared his throat and ran a hand down the front of his suit jacket, smoothing out invisible wrinkles while putting on a cautious smile. "So, gentlemen, what do you say?" he pitched. "I've told you everything I know, so can we forget about all this?"

The two detectives looked at each other before pulling a Jesse-and-Ralph move and creating a round of fake laughs, humoring Domonic and pretending to pander to him. "Of course," Dimitri said.

Adrian masked his earlier frown and grinned widely as he clapped a hand on his shoulder, adding on for effect, "We're homicide. What do we care about drug dealers? Now, if you'll excuse us."

Domonic looked dazed but relieved as the two ducked out of the car dealership, Sydney lagging behind them. She wasn't relieved in the least. In fact, she was surprised her legs still worked between the trauma of a 750K car getting shot up and the fact she'd been a silent bystander as the detective pair bent the law 180 degrees. Outside, the wind was blowing and stirring up a gusty breeze, whipping through her hair and adding even more to Adrian's style. Adrian whistled loftily while glancing up at a tall, balloon man who was whipping around with a dopey, stupid smile painted on the top. He scrunched his nose in disdain looking at it. How he could be so intrigued with such a banal item after casually breaking 5 laws, she couldn't fathom. She didn't even know where to start, her mouth opening and closing again, juggling for her vocal chords before exclaiming, "Are you crazy? You just put a bullet through a $750,000 Lamborghini!"

He arched an amused eyebrow at her, still watching the towering balloon. "Really? That's your main complaint, Sage?"

"That's definitely one of them. You want me to list the others?"

"No, but not to fret, it's all for the greater good," he said, adopting a fake, wise tone.

Incredulous, she turned to Dimitri who had his phone out again, dialing a number. "Are _you_ okay with this?" she demanded.

"Hardly," he said wryly. He was less than pleased with his partner, but that was nothing new. "I can't control Adrian's stupid stunts, but it does give me enough to work with. Believe me, this isn't the dumbest things he's ever pulled. Keep working with him, and you'll find the days he doesn't break the law are few to none."

Adrian flashed a cheeky smile but it dropped quickly when the balloon man distracted him again, one of his arms bumping against the detective. While he preoccupied himself with that, Sydney wasn't going to let go of his recklessness so easily, focused on Dimitri, the only sane one of the two. "So you're going to let a drug dealer walk free?"

"Of course not. That's what narcotics is for." He got on the phone. It only rang once before the narcotics department picked up. "Julia, it's Dimitri. You were right about the heroine. If you hurry, there's a good scent for your dogs to pick up at Santori's-"

Before he could say more and before Julia could give a celebratory cheer, he was cut off by three gunshots blasting through the stale air. Instinctively, he went into half-Russian-warrior, half-guardian mode and forgot about the phone, his body guarding Sydney before he even processed the moving of his feet. His head snapped around, looking for the threat, adrenaline sharpening his senses. At first, he couldn't find the source.

Then he heard the faint hiss of air depressing, replacing the sound of gunshots. It sounded like someone had just let go of a birthday balloon. He looked the first place he should have: his partner. Adrian's gun was out again and his eyes were fixated on the orange balloon man. Three bullets holes were now punctured in his stomach, the balloon man wheezing and deflating sadly, flopping to the ground. Adrian looked back at them.

"I hate that guy," Adrian commented. He made another face at it and kicked the orange rubber off his shoes, the poor, pitiful balloon giving another cough. Assured that he was down for the count, Adrian switched out his gun for a cigarette and lit it up, uncaring of the wind. He blew out a ring of exhaust from between his lips, pocketing his other hand and waltzing down the steps, completely oblivious while Dimitri was still partially-huddled over Sydney, both staring at him. "Santori said there was another person in that car," he said loftily. "We find that car, we find out who was demanding $5,000 from Toby."

The brunette continued to saunter away, careless of his path of destruction. As one, Dimitri and Sydney glanced at the corpse of the inflatable doll, then back at him.

Sydney's heartbeat was still in overtime, a natural response to the gunshots. Despite her brief elation and car-worshiping exuberance, she almost wished she had joined up with Rose, even factoring in the awkwardness with her partner and the calories the coffee would have provided. Here, she felt like an accomplice to a Bonnie and Clyde scandal. "You're driving, right?"she breathed.

"Do you have to ask?" Dimitri answered back. They followed Adrian back to the car, keeping a measurable distance. Suddenly- and he thought he would never say this- couples therapy didn't seem that terrible. It was eons better than a mental asylum, which was probably Alberta's default. And even though she was still scared witless, Sydney couldn't help but reflect that despite the fiasco and bickering, Dimitri and Adrian had pulled off their mission successfully. They'd gotten information for their case, and between their good-cop bad-cop, they had almost seemed like partners in the heat of the moment.

* * *

**Hey. Hey you. Guess what. You're AMAZING.**

**Seriously I can't even put into words how much I appreciate the support you guys have given to this story. That support is working as floaties to keep it from going under, and hopefully with summer unraveling, I'll be able to post every other week as originally planned. Thanks for every Review/Favorite/Follow. **


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